


Walls of Stone

by GreenSorceress



Category: The Flash (TV 2014), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alcoholism, Blow Job, Cuddles, Developing Relationship, Easterling Cisco, First Kiss, Flash characters in Middle Earth, Hartley is always a dick, M/M, Masturbation, Middle Earth-Freeform, No superhero powers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possible Slow burn, a little somnophilia, captive au, chemist!Eobard, crossover fic, elf!Caitlin, handjob, innocent Cisco, slave AU, slave!Cisco, though probably not that slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:25:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7872385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenSorceress/pseuds/GreenSorceress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of Pelennor Fields, Eobard encounters an Easterling captive in a slave market. While he disagrees with the idea of slavery, Eobard couldn't in good conscience leave the boy to an uncertain fate. So he buys the Easterling without much forethought. But the boy turns out to be more than Eobard expected and they soon find themselves dependent on each other in ways they never imagined. </p><p>Terrible description. Please read it anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first crossover fic! Why not combine my two fave fandoms?
> 
> This fic contains the Flash characters in the realm of Middle Earth, specifically Minas Tirith. It will deal mainly with the Flash characters and any LOT canon character will likely only be mentioned.  
> Eobard Thawne is not pretending to be Harrison Wells in this fic, mostly because there are no meta-humans in this au. I have also left his appearance vague so that you can choose which Eobard you prefer to visualize.  
> Cisco is around 20 at the start of this fic.  
> I'm tagging this as Middle Earth-freeform because I'm not an expert. So it likely won't be too close to Middle Earth canon.

The lowest level of the city was a place that Eobard tended to avoid when possible. While it was by far the poorest level of the White City of Gondor, it wasn’t the poverty that kept him away, rather it was the seedy atmosphere of the black markets and the dark, narrow alleys. The wrong turn could find you face to face with more than a few unsavory types, and while Eobard could handle himself in a scuffle, there was no guarantee who or what was waiting around the corner.

Since the War of the Ring, however, the lower level had become a necessary excursion for the chemist, as enterprising vendors of the black markets had been quick to descend on the waste that littered Pelennor Fields, dismantling mumakil carcasses as fast as one might de-bone a chicken, as well robbing the corpses of the fallen Easterlings for their jewelry and ornamentation. A pound of ground mumakil tusk could complete several in-demand recipes and any chemist would be a fool not to purchase it while the supply was plentiful and the price was cheap; regardless of his own feelings toward the markets.

The surviving invaders also brought another lucrative venture. While orcs were not spared and were put down like rabid dogs, the human Easterlings were captured and sold into slavery.

Slavery was a complicated subject in Minas Tirith. The White City did house its fair share of indentured servants and slaves alike, but those were mostly inherited by families through generations or people attempting to work off insurmountable debt. Buying and selling of humans was for the most part illegal in Minas Tirith, though in times following war when there were more captives than cells to hold them, the city turned a blind eye to the slave markets that appeared in the lowest levels as long as there was no public outcry.

Eobard himself owned no slaves and disliked the thought of the markets, but they were unavoidable in the lower levels at times such as this; and after purchasing his supplies realized he would have to pass directly by an auction on the way out.

The wise thing to do would be to avert his eyes and walk on as quickly as possible, but Eobard’s curiosity got the better of him as it often did, and the chemist found himself drawn to the happenings of the makeshift stage. The auctioneer was a small man with a large voice, baiting the crowd as he talked up the attributes of the captive Easterlings.

The current specimen up for purchase was a boy, not much past the cusp of manhood judging by the softness that still clung to his face and upper arms. He wore the remnants of what was likely his battle dress, tattered leather breeches and a ripped leather vest; if the boy’d had boots, they were long gone now. Jet black hair fell in dirty waves around his face, nearly shielding large dark eyes from the leering crowd.

Those eyes were unlike those of the few other Easterlings Eobard had seen before. There was no hard, dead-eyed stare, no manic, lunatic gaze in the boy’s eyes; there was only fear. Fear as the auctioneer shouted over the rising din of the crowd, fear as he was pushed forward to the edge of the stage, as a potential buyer reached out from below to grasp his calf.

“A fine, young thing! Too pretty and delicate for labor, but a nice addition to your bedchamber!” The auctioneer called, running a hand down the boy’s arm. “Ooh this one runs hot! He’ll warm your bed nicely!”

On what appeared to be instinct, the boy lashed out at the touch, swinging his right fist and catching the auctioneer under the chin. He was quickly subdued by the auctioneer’s guards, but not before briefly struggling, spitting angrily in his native tongue.

Eobard didn’t understand the words, but the meaning behind them was unmistakable.

The outburst only spurred the crowd on more and bids began to fly for the wild little Easterling.

“Fifty silver and I’ll break that wild streak!”

“I’ll give seventy-five!”

“Eighty silver!”

“One hundred gold pieces!” The words had left Eobard’s mouth before he even realized it. Many heads turned toward the direction of the extravagant bid, including the boy in question, but Eobard did not back down no matter how surprised he was by his own actions. He held high and eyes trained on the auctioneer, who was now sporting a bloodied lip.

The crowd murmured but no one raised a higher bid.

“Sold! To the esteemed gentleman in the black robes!” The auctioneer called gleefully before giving the boy a hard shove toward the back of the stage.

One of the auctioneer’s assistants bustled Eobard to a small tent behind the stage where his money was collected and the boy brought forth. Up close he was even smaller than he had looked on stage, the fear had returned to his eyes as he stared at Eobard’s feet, his master’s feet. It made Eobard want to comfort him, remove the fear and doubt that radiated from his small form.

“Sir?”

“Hmm?” Eobard looked up, not realizing the assistant had been speaking to him.

“You want him branded with your mark?”

“Erm…no, certainly not!”

“If he runs away, will be harder to find him with no mark. Best let me brand him,” the assistant reasoned with a glimmer in his eye that Eobard quickly decided he didn’t like.

“No, I don’t want him branded, just hand him over, you have your money,” he insisted, growing impatient and irritated as the weight of his actions began to settle around him. He had just purchased a slave, Eobard now owned another human. And why had he done it? He wasn’t particularly generous when it came to others, and he knew nothing about this wild, little foreigner; what had it been about this boy that had made him act so rash, so out of character.

“Suit yourself,” the assistant shrugged, thrusting the end of a rope into Eobard’s hand and sauntering off back to the stage.

Eobard looked down at the rope in confusion until he realized the other end was tethered his slave’s hands. The boy was still looking at the ground and Eobard was able to look him over properly. He probably hadn’t seen more than twenty winters, or whatever the equivalent was in the climate of Rhun in the East. He was filthy from head to toe, dirt and dust and dried blood flecking his skin and tangling his hair; and cutting through the grime on his young face, the clear streaks of tears, falling from his eyes to under his chin. It made Eobard wonder if the boy was injured in some way or if the tears had been from ill treatment in captivity, though it would be impossible to tell until he got the boy clean. That in itself seemed like a steep task at the moment.

As his eyes lifted to take in the form before him, Eobard’s gaze briefly met the boy’s as he had raised his own to get a glimpse of his new master. Realizing he had been caught, the boy hastily dropped his eyes, drawing his shoulders up as if he expected to be struck or reprimanded.

“It’s alright, you’re safe,” Eobard paused, wondering if he was wasting his words. “Do you…understand Westron?”

It was too much to hope that an Easterling would have any knowledge of the language of the West, but to his surprise the boy lifted his eyes and slowly nodded.

“Good, that’s good. Come, child,” Eobard tugged gently on the rope as he began to move away from the market. The boy followed closely behind, head lowered but no more than half a step behind. Unsure of the protocol, Eobard kept a firm grip on the rope in his hand; if nothing else, it would keep anyone from stealing his slave in the crowd, though in truth he couldn’t wait to get the boy home and free of his tethers.

Navigating through the narrow streets to the higher levels was surprisingly easy with the boy in tow. People seemed to step aside more eagerly for someone leading a slave than for a man alone; the idea disgusted Eobard but at the same time he was grateful that he could get them home quickly.

 

                                                                                            ~*~*~*~*~

 

“What is _that_?” Hartley’s nose wrinkled as he looked the small slave over. “It smells.”

“Hartley,” Eobard sighed wearily, used to his partner’s judgmental nature but having little patience for it at the moment. “He’s…an Easterling captive. I bought him in an auction on the first level.”

“ _Why_ did you buy him? I thought you were too good to own slaves,” Hartley pressed, peering around Eobard at the short boy, his lips curled in revulsion.

“I passed by the auction, he was being sold as a bedslave, I couldn’t just…look at him. If he’s of age he hasn’t been for very long. “

“Oh, it all makes sense now. You brought an Easterling invader into your home to be your pleasure slave! Looks as though I’m not enough for you anymore!” Hartley spat, crosses his arms over his chest. “How do you think my father would react knowing you brought this little wildling home?”

“Considering the amount of slaves and indentured servants your family already owns, I doubt he would blink an eye,” Eobard remarked dryly. “Just…take my parcels to the laboratory, please. I’m going to get him cleaned up and settled in.”

With an exaggerated huff, Hartley snatched the package from Eobard’s hand and stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him for good measure.

It wasn’t until one hand was empty that Eobard realized the other still held the rope, and the rope was still tied tightly around the boy’s wrists.

“I am sorry,” he murmured as he turned to untie the binding. “Hartley can be difficult, but he is a brilliant chemist, and he’s harmless. There you are, feel better?”

The boy rubbed the chafed skin of his wrists and nodded, looking around the front room of Eobard’s home.

“Come, I think you are in need of a bath, it’ll make you feel better,” Eobard placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, noting how he flinched slightly at the contact, and led him to the washroom.

“Undress,” he directed, leaving the boy standing in the middle of the room as he stoked the fire under the large copper kettle. “This is something of my own design, the kettle collects rainwater from the gutter outside the window. Then the water is heated by the fire and transferred to the bath through this secondary gutter.”

Lifting the latch on the kettle, the warm water began to flow through a half-pipe connected to the large stone tub. Eobard smiled at his own creation and turned to the boy, who was now standing naked in the middle of the room.

He hadn’t covered himself with his hands, but he wanted to, judging by the way they twitched and fidgeted at his sides. The body before him was not one of a warrior, or a soldier, it was the body of a boy thrust into war in a foreign land much too early. The soft baby fat of his face and arms persisted in the rest of his body, rounding his belly and cushioning his hips. His flat chest was sprinkled with dark hair, tapering as it travelled down to a thatch of dark curls at the apex of his thighs.

There were bruises and scrapes in various stages of healing, scattered across his body like an old map, purple and yellow splotches, flaking scabs and pinking scars; but nothing seemed infected or inflamed, much to Eobard’s relief.

The older man took a step forward, his eyes grazing over the smooth skin, the strong thighs and soft member nestled against dark curls, over little brown nipples that peaked in the open air. Finally, up to the face, turned slightly away, eyes focused on some distance point, plump lower lip caught between straight, white teeth. There was humiliation in the roundness of his shoulders, and trepidation in the furrow of his brow.

“What is your name?” Eobard took the boy’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting his face until their eyes met.

“Cisco…m-master.” His accent was thick but not so much that Eobard couldn’t understand. The words were nearly whispered, far too breathy to know what his voice truly sounded like.

“Cisco,” Eobard tested the name on his tongue. “You may call me Eobard.”

“Master Eobard.” Cisco replied, a little louder.

“No, just…just Eobard,” he corrected with a small smile. “Let’s get you clean, Cisco.”

There was no reason to think Cisco couldn’t have bathed himself; he seemed perfectly capable, but Eobard couldn’t keep himself from touching the boy, helping him into the tub, guiding him to sit back as he picked up a pitcher beside the tub. He filled it with the warm water from the bath and carefully poured it over Cisco’s filthy hair before using Hartley’s sweet smelling soap to wash it clean.

Cisco did not protest, lying back and closing his eyes as the suds were rinsed away from his long black strands. As Eobard used the soap to wash the rest of his body Cisco tensed but said nothing, remaining pliant as he stared at the wall.

Eobard knew he should have felt somewhat guilty for treating the boy in such a way, but he reasoned that he was being far gentler than anyone else who would have purchased Cisco, that perhaps Cisco appreciated being handled so delicately after the likely rough treatment he received as a captive.

“I’m sure you’re hungry, Cisco. We’ll get you something to eat once we’re finished here,” Eobard was saying, not entirely focused on his task as he slid his soapy hands over the boy’s flesh, letting them drift under the water. A bump of his fingers against something turgid under the murky water and a small gasp from Cisco brought his attention back to the moment.

A thick swallow, a quick breath, and Eobard closed his fingers around Cisco’s erection. The boy whimpered softly, tears sparkling in his eyes as he bit his trembling lower lip. It wasn’t true arousal, Eobard knew this, simply a natural response to his gentle touches, and Cisco looked ready to die of humiliation. Still, Eobard didn’t let go, holding the hardness firmly in his slender fingers as the blood drained from his face to his own groin.

“Have you ever been touched like this, Cisco?” Eobard brought his lips close to the boy’s ear as he held his fingers still. It would be so easy to bring him to climax, probably no more than a few flicks of his wrist.

“N-no, Master Eobard,” Cisco whispered in reply, shaking his head and causing another tear to fall.

“Eobard,” the older man corrected, his breath hot against the shell of Cisco’s ear. “Have _you_ ever touched yourself like this?”

A minute nod, eyes squeezing closed as Cisco began to silently cry.

“Don’t cry, child, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Eobard released the cock in his hand, realizing just how overwhelmed Cisco had become, knowing he was to blame. “You’ve done very well so far, and you have nothing to fear.”

The chemist rose from the side of the tub, wiping his hand on a soft towel before helping Cisco to stand and wrapping the towel around his shoulders. “Let’s get you dry and dressed, then you can have something to eat.”

“I will pleasure you now?” Cisco asked quietly, stepping out of the tub and sinking to his knees before Eobard. His dark eyes lifted to the older man’s face, still glassy and red rimmed from his tears, water dripped down his thighs to pool around them on the stone floor.

“No, you are not here to pleasure me,” Eobard explained as he helped Cisco back to his feet. “You don’t have to do anything you are not comfortable with, not here, not anymore. Dry yourself off.”

Extending a hand, Eobard helped the boy to stand before looking around for something for Cisco to put on and realizing he hadn’t thought that particular part through. The only extra clothing in the bathroom was one of Eobard’s long robes, he shook it out and laid it over a chair in the corner. “You can wear that until we can get you something more fitting.”

Cisco obeyed, toweling off under Eobard’s appraising eyes.

Perhaps he should have felt guilty for his behavior so far, touching Cisco and leering at him while the boy was so vulnerable; but he only needed to remind himself of how he had pulled Cisco from an uncertain fate to absolve himself of all guilt.

The robes were at least half a foot too long for Cisco, pooling around his bare feet and hanging off one shoulder no matter how many times he pulled it back up. They made him look even smaller than he was and Eobard couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, it’s not ideal but it will do for the time being,” the older man surmised as he opened the door, leaving Cisco’s discarded clothes where they lay on the stone floor. “Let’s get you fed.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

Hartley was more than halfway through a bottle of wine by the time they got to the kitchen, as Eobard had expected. He took one look at Cisco swimming in Eobard’s robes and scoffed before storming out of the room, bottle in hand.

Waving him of, Eobard turned to focus on what the larder had to offer. He filled a plate with cured meat, hard cheese, a handful of olives and a chunk of crusty bread, grabbing another bottle of wine before he turned.

Cisco still stood where Eobard had left him, fiddling with the tie of the oversized robe and watching the older man closely. For the first time since Eobard had purchased him the boy’s shoulders seemed to hold less tension, though his face was still tight with uncertainty.

“Sit, eat,” Eobard gestured to a chair at the table as he set the plate down, adding ‘please’ for good measure as he took two wine goblets from their shelf.

As before, Cisco obeyed, shuffling over to the table and sitting down. He picked up a piece of the cured meat and began to nibble. Once he had a taste of the meat, the boy took a larger bite, his eyes drifting closed in what could only be satisfaction.

It occurred to Eobard that this was likely the first proper meal the boy had seen since before the battle and he grabbed an apple from the fruit basket to supplement the offering.

“Where did you learn to speak Westron, Cisco?” He asked as he poured them both full glasses of wine. After the day, they could both do with a drink. “I wasn’t aware that many Easterlings spoke the tongue of the West.”

“After battle, I am taken to market, I listen to others talking and learn their words,” Cisco explained slowly, clearly thinking over the words he spoke.

“So you learned to speak Westron simply from listening to those around you?”

The boy nodded and cautiously reached for an olive.

“That is very clever of you. I have never heard of another picking up a language so quickly.”

A soft blush rose to Cisco’s cheeks and he lowered his eyes to his plate. Clearly he was not used to praise; Eobard filed that observation away to revisit later. Positive reinforcement always yielded better results than negative, what those results would be were, at the moment, irrelevant.

“Have some wine, it will help you to relax,” Eobard coaxed, pushing the goblet closer to the boy. He had chosen a sweeter red, one drank with desserts or given to youngsters for their first glass of spirits. When Cisco hesitated, Eobard picked up his own glass and took a sip.

The boy followed suit, taking a small sip of the sweet liquid and licking his lips before taking a larger gulp.

“Do you have family back home? Someone special who is awaiting your return?” It shouldn’t have mattered to Eobard whether Cisco was attached to someone where he came from, but he still found himself burning to know.

“I have family, mama, papa, older brother,” Cisco replied before taking another drink of wine. The rosiness in his cheeks remaining thanks to the drink.

Eobard refilled both their glasses. “Your brother, did he come with you into battle?”

“Only second sons go to war. First always stay with family.”

Sitting back in his chair, Eobard considered this new information. The younger son, taken from his family and sent to war. It was likely that some had been eager to go into battle, but Cisco didn’t seem like the type to relish battle. There was a gentleness to him, too much fear in his eyes to be a warrior.

“I imagine your family would be eager to see you safely home,” he suggested, gesturing to the plate for Cisco to continue eating his fill.

“Return as victor or not at all,” Cisco shrugged as he picked up a chunk of cheese and sniffed it warily. “They never expect me to come home.”

“I am sorry for that. You will be well taken care of here, if you wish to stay.”

“I belong to you, Eobard. Where else I go?” Cisco asked simply, raising his eyes to meet the older man’s.

Eobard knew he should explain to the boy that he didn’t plan for him to remain his slave, that it made no difference to him if he were free and a paid servant, or even an extended house guest. Though something dark within him stopped the words in his throat. He told himself that it would be too much information for the boy to process, that their language barrier would make it difficult to understand. But Cisco was smart, that much was evident; it was an insult to use that as an excuse for keeping him in the dark.

Yet Eobard still didn’t tell him otherwise. He watched as Cisco drained his second glass of wine, his eyes becoming heavy but his shoulders relaxing. More than anything in that moment, the boy looked like he needed to be held. It made Eobard’s fingers itch with the desire to reach out and pull the smaller body into his arms.

“I think it’s time to put you to bed,” Eobard surmised, finishing his own wine.

Cisco swallowed thickly but stood and followed, the long robes dragging the floor behind him like a bridal train.

While his home was spacious enough to contain servant’s quarters, Eobard had never made use of them, preferring the solitude of living alone and thus leaving the small rooms empty. This posed a minor inconvenience considering the new addition to his household, as the only other available bed was in the guest room. Though in truth it was rarely used and it made no difference to him that Cisco was technically a slave, or foreign invader, and he’d much prefer the boy be comfortable than worry about social protocol.

“You may sleep in here, it will be your room while you remain here,” he explained, lighting a candle and pulling back the somewhat musty covers of the unused bed. “If you get hungry or thirsty throughout the night you may help yourself to whatever you like. I only ask that you don’t leave the house alone and that you avoid my laboratory when I’m not there.”

Moving silently across the room, Cisco came to stand before Eobard, he let the dark robes slip from his shoulders and down to the floor. This time he raised his eyes to the other man’s without being prompted; this time there wasn’t fear in them, but something akin to acceptance.

“I told you, Cisco, you are not here for my pleasure,” Eobard stated without conviction, his skin heating with the desire to take what Cisco offered.

“Then why did you buy me?” The boy asked quietly, his face falling in what could have been mistaken as rejection.

“I…I can’t rightly say.” It was a non-answer but it was the truth. Eobard had given very little thought to his actions in the market, all he had known was that he couldn’t let Cisco go to anyone else, anyone that wasn’t him.

“You touched me…in the water,” Cisco’s reply was soft and uncertain, like he wasn’t sure he was remembering correctly.

“Yes, I did. But I shouldn’t have, it was wrong of me to touch you when you were so vulnerable, when I knew you didn’t want it.” Eobard closed the distance between them and guided Cisco up onto the bed. “You’ve had a long day. Sleep now, and we will discuss everything in the morning.”

He left before the boy could protest further, before he gave him to his own hidden desires and climbed into the bed with him, closing the door and making his way to his own room.

~*~*~*~*~

Hartley was already in bed, laying on his back with the blanket low on his hips. The low light of a nearly burnt out candle cast a warm glow on his pale skin; it made him look sensual, inviting.

Stripping out of his own robes, Eobard’s blood was still hot from Cisco’s silent offer. He climbed into bed and kissed his lover’s shoulder, his hand moving under the blanket toward Hartley’s groin.

But the younger man only huffed rolled over onto his side, facing away from Eobard as he pulled the blanket over his shoulders. This was a game they had played many times before, one which Eobard knew he would lose, Hartley was always the tease when he was in a pout.

Eobard sighed and rolled onto his back, taking himself into his hand. It wasn’t the way he preferred to reach his peak, especially considering the warm body beside him, but his desire wouldn’t be quieted. His eyes slipped closed as his mind left the room, travelled down the hall to the second bedroom, to dark eyes and darker hair, to tan skin and trembling lips.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Cisco's POV. Originally I planned to switch perspective with each chapter but I am finding it's easier to write Cisco's, so the next several might be all his POV.

Sleep didn’t come easily that night, and Cisco found himself tossing and turning in the large bed for the better part of it. A large bed that was more comfortable than any he had ever felt and that only added to his growing confusion.

When he had been purchased, Cisco had anticipated for all sorts of ill treatment, especially after what he had witnessed in his brief time as a captive. At best he had hoped that his new master would reward obedience and good behavior with a gentle hand. What he hadn’t been expecting was to be treated as an equal, to be bathed and fed and dressed in his master’s own clothes.

It had been obvious that Eobard hadn’t planned on purchasing him, that it had all been impulse; but his treatment of his new slave was still far more kind than Cisco could have ever hoped. Another master would have left his bedslave naked rather than allow him to wear his own robes, and Cisco had expected little more than a mat on the floor, certainly not a comfortable bed with a feather mattress.

And of course there was his master’s strange behavior, insisting he be called by his name and not claiming Cisco, as was his right. The boy didn’t believe for a moment when Eobard told him he wasn’t there for his master’s pleasure. Surely this was an elaborate ruse by the older man, something to soothe his own guilt by allowing himself to believe that letting his slave call him by name and delaying his physical pleasure would absolve him.

In a few short weeks Cisco had gone from younger son, apprentice, to reluctant soldier, prisoner of war, and finally bedslave of a foreign nobleman. It was more than too much to take in, to accept, and as he curled in on himself under the soft blankets of his new bed, Cisco discovered he had no more tears to shed for his own plight. There was no home to go back to, his family would not take him after this, and he was an outsider in this strange land, an invader whether it had been his choice or not. There was little chance of earning an honest living on his own in the west. Cisco was left with one option that he could see; strive to keep Eobard’s favor and hope that one day he could earn his freedom.

At dawn Cisco rose with little more than a few hours’ sleep, but alert and ready to learn his new station. The sooner he knew what was expected of him the easier it would be. At least he hoped.

The house was still quiet and after pulling on the long robe he had been given, Cisco quietly made his way to the kitchen. He’d been given no instructions but upon seeing no other slaves or servants in the home, surmised that he would be expected to perform all duties. It was a little daunting, but Cisco learned quickly.

Eobard would likely expect breakfast, as would his lover, Hartley; it was the best place to start. In the larder Cisco found brown eggs and tea and boiled water for both. While the eggs boiled and the tea steeped, Cisco cut thick slices of ham and fried them in butter as bread toasted on the oven top. He was so absorbed in his task that he didn’t hear anyone enter the kitchen until Eobard spoke behind him.

“Well, it’s good to see you making yourself at home,” Eobard smiled from the doorway. He was wearing a dark grey dressing robe, his hair was mussed from sleep and his feet were bare.

“Hello, Eobard, I do not know what you eat in mornings,” Cisco explained as he brought the two full plates to the table, placing one in front of his master and the other across from him.

“It looks and smells delicious, Cisco, but you didn’t have to cook for me. I normally make my own breakfast,” Eobard replied before cutting into his succulent slice of ham.

Nodding, Cisco stepped back and kept his head down. Eobard preferred to cook for himself; had Cisco overstepped his bounds? Would he be punished for making assumptions rather than waiting for instruction? He didn’t have much time to worry over his actions as Hartley strode in wearing a deep red dressing robe and a sour expression.

“I’m not eating anything that he touches,” he stated, crossing his arms over his face and wrinkling his nose at the plate of food.

Cisco kept his eyes on the floor, biting his tongue against the insult. He wasn’t savage or incapable, far from it; he was smarter than everyone else in his family, something they never hesitated to ridicule him about. He was no more like a typical Easterling than Hartley was, but it didn’t stop the judgment.

“Hartley, don’t be such a snob,” Eobard chided without looking up, half of his breakfast already gone. “It was quite good and Cisco worked very hard on it.”

“I wouldn’t put it past an Easterling to poison our food! I’m not eating and you are a fool for doing so!” The young man spun on his heel and stomped from the kitchen. “I’m going to have a bath while you succumb to your poisoned eggs!”

After Hartley was gone Eobard pushed back his plate and looked up to the boy. “I am sorry about him, you shouldn’t have been subjected to that. Won’t you come eat? It would be a shame for his plate to go to waste.”

Cisco obeyed, his stomach growling at the offer. Tentatively, he sat in the chair across from Eobard, waiting to be knocked to the floor or scolded at his audacity of taking a place at the master’s table. But when no such thing happened he picked up the utensils and began to eat.

Throughout his meal, Cisco couldn’t help but be aware of Eobard watching him. It was unnerving, he felt like he was on display as much as when he was being sold in the market. Again, he wondered if he was doing something wrong.

“I do not eat at table again?” He asked, shifting in his chair and expecting to move to the floor.

“No, you may eat wherever and whenever you want.” Eobard’s smile was gentle and fond, as if looking upon a child.

Feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny, Cisco rose from the table and began to clear away the dishes. He had only made it to the wash basin and set the plates down when a warm hand closed over his wrist. Eobard was warm pressed behind him and Cisco took a deep breath; this must be it. His master was going to mount him right there in the kitchen.

“Those can wait,” the older man murmured against his ear. “You are still getting settled in, there’s no need to push yourself.”

“Better now than later,” Cisco shrugged, not pulling away when Eobard lingered close to him, hoping that his chores could prolong their inevitable coupling.

“Still, it can wait if you wish.” Eobard’s breath was warm against ear. “It will be easier once we get you some clothes that fit properly.”

“What else would I do?” Cisco asked and immediately regretted his words. Would Eobard find his questioning to presumptuous for a slave?

“You could keep me company in the lab,” his master proposed, finally stepping away from Cisco and picking up his cup of tea. “I’m not sure there will be much for you to do, but if you are going to be staying here it will be helpful that you know what elements are kept in the home.”

“Yes, Eobard.” An excited shiver coursed through Cisco’s body. Only last night Eobard had told him to stay clear of the laboratory, and now he was invited inside. Chances are he wouldn’t be allowed to touch or to help with the potions, but he could still learn from a distance. “I clean this and bring you tea?”

“As you wish, Cisco.” The fond smile was back but it didn’t completely put the boy to ease.

~*~*~*~*~

The laboratory was a large, open room in the lower level of Eobard’s home. It was filled with long tables and high shelves, with books and tomes and scrolls. There were neatly labeled jars filled with nearly every ingredient Cisco had ever heard of and many more that he hadn’t. The entire scene made his fingers itch to create, to get his hands on some of those bottles and tomes and see what he could come up with.

Unfortunately, the lab also contained Hartley. Looking far too regal for the setting in shimmery dove grey robes, he ignored Cisco when the boy entered and stomped off to the table at the far end of the room.

“This isn’t working, Eobard! Are you sure you purchased mumakil tusk powder and not troll bone powder?” Hartley slammed his book closed and glared at the older man.

“Yes, I am certain. Are you sure you are following the recipe correctly?”

“Of course I--, do you really think I couldn’t read a recipe?” Hartley spat, his face red and his hands shaking in anger. “It isn’t working! You got bad powder!”

Knowing he was overstepping his bounds but unable to stop himself, Cisco crept forward to peer around Hartley into the young man’s bowl. Coming from the land of indigenous mumakil had taught him more about the creatures than anyone from the West could be expected to know.

“Needs to be smoked,” he surmised quietly, too fearful to raise his eyes to Hartley’s, though he could feel them like fire on the top of his head.

“Eobard, your plaything is interfering with my work! Get a handle on him before I throw him out with the rest of the refuse!”

Cisco cringed and moved away from the young man, his head down in case he was about to be struck.

“I’d wager he knows more about mumakil tusk than you do, Hartley,” Eobard reasoned as he got up from his stool and came to stand beside the boy. “What were you saying about it, Cisco?”

The hand on the small of his back was a gentle pressure and Cisco found it gave him enough courage to speak again. “The tusk, needs smoke. It changes the…the…” he rolled his hands in a parallel circle, unable to think of the correct word in Westron to describe his meaning.

“The…property of the tusk?” Eobard supplied, smiling when Cisco raised his eyes and nodded. “There now, Hartley, you see what good can come from simply listening to another?”

The young man scowled as Eobard took the remainder of the tusk powder and handed it to Cisco. “Please, will you show me how to do it?”

Taking the bowl in his hands, Cisco carried it to the wood-burning stove in the middle of the room. Opening the door, he found the fire inside dying out and added a fresh log on top of the glowing embers; it hissed and crackled and began to fill the small space with a thick grey smoke. Cisco emptied the powder into a small iron bowl and hung it on the hook inside the stove, allowing the smoke from the fresh log to billow and swirl around it.

“We do until tusk color change,” Cisco explained, dusting his hands off against themselves.

“Brilliant, I don’t think either of us would have ever thought of that,” Eobard grinned fondly while Hartley grumbled behind them. “Would you like to see what I am working on? There’s room at the table for you, perhaps you can help me with the more basic aspects like mixing.”

Cisco couldn’t suppress his wide grin at the invitation. It was a rare thing to be listened to, even before he was taken for the war; it made him feel human again. His face felt stiff against the smile and he realized it was the first since leaving his homeland.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The knock on the door startled Cisco more than he thought it would. The morning and most of the afternoon had been spent in Eobard’s laboratory, carefully mixing potions and studying tomes in the foreign language of Westron, only stopping briefly for a quick lunch of bread, cheese and cured meat.

After filling the morning with huffs and angry words at every turn, Eobard had sent Hartley on several errands that would likely keep him busy for the better part of the day. Cisco had relished the peace that his absence had left behind, and while he would never dare voice it, he wondered why Eobard would tolerate such treatment from a lover.

With the assumption that Hartley had a key to the home, the knock on the door startled Cisco from his concentration and he found himself panting anxiously as he followed his master to the door. His time in the slave market had taught Cisco to trust no one and never let his guard down, and the unknown visitor on the other side of the door posed more of a threat than anything he had encountered within the safety of Eobard’s home thus far.

Though when Eobard opened the door, all trepidation bled from the boy and he was left in wonder at the creature who came through it, seeming to glide without touching the floor. To the passing eye she might have been taken for a human, but tall creature had a serene air that made her appear otherworldly, magical. Her hazelnut colored hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders and her large brown eyes shown warmly when they landed on Cisco. This creature had to be an elf, Cisco would have known it without spying the dainty, pointed tips of her ears peeking out through her lustrous hair.

“Caitlin, come in. Would you like some tea?” Eobard was saying whilst Cisco stared dumbly at the tall young woman.

“That is very kind of you,” Caitlin replied before turning her attention to the short young man. “And who is this? Have you taken on a second assistant?”

“This is Cisco, I found him on the lower levels. He has been assisting me with potions, yes. Just this morning he shared some helpful insight with mumakil tusk powder,” Eobard explained cryptically before excusing himself to ready their tea.

“Hello Cisco, I am Caitlin. I am a healer in the Houses of Healing. Tell me, are you from Rhun?” Caitlin sat on a nearby chair and gestured for Cisco to do the same.

Unable to do more than listen to her soothing voice, Cisco nodded in response and took a seat across from her.

“I suspect Eobard is being vague about you,” she studied him for a brief moment. “You are his slave, he did not find you so much in the lower levels as he bought you.”

Cisco dropped his eyes and nodded again. “I was capture in battle, taken to markets to be sold. He find me and buy me.”

“How are you being treated, Cisco? Is he kind to you? Has he been rough with you?” The concern on her flawless face made Cisco want to cry.

“He is kind, not hurt me. I am lucky.” It was the truth and Cisco knew it. Any other person in the crowd would have bedded him as soon as they had gotten him home, maybe fed him if he was lucky. Aside from the bath Eobard had not laid a hand on him, had been patient and generous far more than he would have dared hope. Cisco still had his fears and doubts about the other man, that he was not being completely honest, but there was no way to tell.

Eobard returned with a tray of tea and three cups, setting it on the table just as Caitlin rose from her chair.

“I would speak with you alone, Eobard,” her tone offered no room for refusal.

“Of course, my lady. Cisco, help yourself,” Eobard addressed the boy before following her out of the main room and down the hallway.

Though he was tempted to follow and listen, Cisco didn’t dare. Instead, he poured himself a cup of tea and strained his ears to pick up anything from the other room, though it was no use; aside from the stray syllable he couldn’t make out enough of the conversation to understand.

The pair returned after their brief interlude, Caitlin looked as serene as when she had arrived but Eobard seemed to be just short of agitated.

“We will have your elixirs ready in two days hence, my lady. And you know that if you need anything else before then you need only ask.” Eobard’s smile was thinner than before but Caitlin paid no heed.

Finishing her tea, the elf rose and came to stand before Cisco, who rose in turn to meet her. She took one of his hands in hers and held it gently. “You will be safe here, Cisco, but if you ever feel unsafe, my home is always open to you.”

“You’ve made your point, Caitlin,” Eobard stated from over her shoulder, the impatience on his face making Cisco feel as though he were to blame.

Caitlin smiled and took her leave without another word.

She had not been gone more than a couple minutes when Hartley came back with several parcels. He dropped most of them on the table by the door and thrust one large, brown paper wrapped bundle into Eobard’s hands. “Well, you’ve certainly got some nerve! Send me to the tailor to pick of your little plaything’s new clothes? Take them! I am going to my parents’ home until you come to your senses!”

The door slammed hard enough to rattle the iron hinges.

In the brief silence that was left behind, Cisco felt as though he may suffocate. Surely if Eobard’s lover despised him this much his new master would not tolerate him for much longer. He would be back on the auction block before the end of the week, and off to some terrible new master who would mistreat him for the rest of his life.

But Eobard didn’t let him dwell within his own mind for long. Taking the boy’s hand, he smiled and led Cisco to his bedroom. “At least we’ll have a day or two of peace without Hartley here. Take off that robe, let’s see if your new things fit.”

With a stuttered breath Cisco obeyed, letting the too large robe slip from his shoulders to pool around his feet on the floor. He was exposed, even with Eobard turned away and unwrapping the package, Cisco felt on display. But he had been told to undress and nothing else, so he stood and waited for what felt like an eternity.

“Now if they don’t fit we can..,” Eobard trailed off as he turned to face Cisco.

The look in his eyes grew dark with lust and Cisco took a deep breath. Part of him wished Eobard would get whatever it was over with, while the other wished to be spared for just a little longer.

“Those bruises, do they hurt?” The older man motioned toward the mottled discoloration across Cisco’s body, remnants of the battle and mistreatment in captivity.

With everything else happening, the last thing Cisco had thought about were his healing bruises. It seemed a little thing to be concerned with and he shrugged in response.

“Stay right there, I have some liniment that I think will help the healing process.” Eobard dashed out of the room, leaving Cisco to stand naked in the center of it.

While he had been told to stay where he was, Cisco dared to move to the large bed, sitting on the side as he waited. The change of position helped to make him feel less exposed and Cisco took a deep, calming breath.

“Here we are,” Eobard returned with a small brown bottle of what appeared to be oil. “This liniment will give you some relief while aiding the healing.”

Rather than give Cisco the bottle to apply himself, Eobard poured a small amount into his hands and, after setting the bottle down, rubbed them together. He started at Cisco’s upper arms, gently smoothing the fragrant oil into the finger shaped bruises on his biceps.

The cooling sensation of the oil did feel nice and the scent was indeed relaxing; he had to admit, the liniment did make a positive difference. As did his master’s gentle hands. It had been so long since someone had touched him with tenderness, and Eobard’s long fingers kneading his tense flesh was more relaxing that Cisco thought it would be.

By the time Eobard had worked his way to Cisco’s back, the boy was hard, his erection painfully obvious thanks to his nakedness. It made his face burn in shame and Cisco knew it was only a matter of time before Eobard noticed and touched him there again.

Though in truth the prospect didn’t seem as terrifying as it was the day before. Eobard’s fingers were soft and soothing and Cisco imagine he would be very skilled at making someone climax with just his hand. It gave him a small glimmer of hope that perhaps when Eobard did have him he would be equally as gentle.

But Eobard made no move to touch him as he had before. Instead, after he had finished with the liniment he unfolded Cisco’s new clothes and offered them to the brunet with hardly a glance at the slowly wilting erection before him.

The items were a rich golden color, not far from his own skin tone, a fact that he appreciated as it reminded Cisco of the swirling sand of Rhun. The outfit consisted of a pair of thin, woven leggings and a long robe similar to the one he had been wearing. The only difference was this robe was sized to fit his smaller frame. Eobard’s robe had felt like being wrapped in a blanket while the new one clung to him in all the right places, rather than falling off his shoulder or tangling under his feet. It was made from a rich, thick brocade, but the fabric was soft and felt nice against his skin.

The leggings were another story. They were awkward to pull on and after several moments of watching Cisco struggle with them Eobard intervened.

“Allow me. I imagine the first time is tricky.” He gathered one leg at a time, holding the fabric open to allow Cisco to step into it, and carefully pulled the leggings up to his waist. A thin cord around the top held the leggings in place and Eobard tied it snugly, his hands lingering on Cisco’s hips after it was finished. “How do they feel?”

“Different from leather,” Cisco explained, leaning unconsciously into the other man’s touch. “Very soft, I like soft.”

“Yes, very soft,” Eobard murmured, rubbing circles into Cisco’s hips. It felt understood that he was not referring to the clothing.

Eventually the older man stepped back, looking Cisco over, and the boy couldn’t help but miss the loss of contact.

“Well, the new clothes suit you, I am glad you are comfortable in them.” Eobard looked him over again but this time his gaze held something akin to pride and Cisco fidgeted under the scrutiny. “I imagine you are hungry, I know I am. Shall we find something for dinner?”

~*~*~*~

Dinner consisted of a stew in desperate need of salt and unleavened bread flavored with rosemary and pepper. Eobard had insisted on fixing it, leaving Cisco to sit uneasily at the table while the other man worked. It had put him on edge that Eobard would not let him help, as if it were another kindness to add to the tally of what he had already been given.

But after dinner Eobard excused himself to the bath and left Cisco on his own, with the same instructions as before: do not leave the home and do not go into the lab alone. With nothing else do to, and still uncertain of his role in the home, Cisco retreated to his room and to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and for being patient. The plot of this fic is moving slower than most of my fics do but I am enjoying taking my time with this one. 
> 
> I would love to hear what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you who are continuing to read this. Looks like it's actually going to be a slow burn after all!
> 
> In this chapter, Cisco is getting better at Westron but still has some learning to do. I promise he'll get better with it in every chapter, mostly because writing it broken is hard!

Hartley’s departure left an air of peace in the home and over the next several days Cisco felt himself begin to relax more than he had since before he was taken for war. The mornings were spent with he and Eobard in the laboratory, working together on potions and elixirs; Eobard listened to Cisco as an equal and in turn shared his knowledge with the boy, spent hours explaining recipes and compounds to him. The evenings after dinner Eobard helped Cisco with his Westron as they shared a bottle of wine.

For the first time in his life Cisco felt as though someone saw him as more than the younger son, than just a boy who thought he knew everything. Someone listened to him and took him seriously, invested in his knowledge and made Cisco feel more like a human than he had in months. He found himself looking forward to his mornings in the laboratory, sharing a table with Eobard and simply listening to the other man speak.

“I think we should go out today,” Eobard decided just before lunch on their fifth day alone. “We’ve been cooped up in here for long enough and it looks like a lovely day outside. I think we should go to the markets for our lunch, what do you say?”

Cisco swallowed and hesitated in his answer. The last time he was in a market he had been molested by the crowd and his handlers and sold to the man standing before him. Was this a test? And if so, what answer was Eobard looking for?

“We’ll keep to the markets in the upper levels,” Eobard added as if sensing Cisco’s reticence. “They are nothing like the lower levels where I found you, only reputable merchants and vendors on the top levels. And the food is exquisite.”

Releasing the breath he was holding, Cisco relaxed and nodded before sitting down to pull on his shoes. They were funny things, his new shoes, more like slippers than what he considered shoes, especially since he’d only ever worn heavy, leather boots in Rhun. These little slippers were leather as well, but soft and supple, lined with linen and embroidered around the edges; they made no sound when he walked. Yet another difference between his former and new home.

“All set?” Eobard asked, pulling Cisco from his own thoughts.

He smiled and followed the older man out the door.

When Eobard had taken him home only a week ago, Cisco hadn’t bothered to look at the passing scenery much; at the time he was more concerned with his own fate with his new master, and hadn’t thought to take notice of the city that was now his home. But today, dressed in his sandy colored robes and walking closely to Eobard, he was able to look up and down the alleys and avenues, taking in every detail of the White City and its inhabitants.

His home in Rhun had been in a desert city, the buildings all constructed of sandstone and mostly single story to combat the heat; the beige and gold cities tended to blend in with the sand. But Minas Tirith seemed to glow in the midday sun, shades of white and silvery grey interweaving and overlapping throughout the city as if it were made of stardust.

It was also taller than he thought any city could have been. Built directly into the mountain, the buildings towered over one another as if they were reaching up to touch the clouds. On more than one occasion he had to hurry to catch up with Eobard after stopping to stare at a spiraling staircase or some imposing façade. The White City had seemed magnificent from the back of a mumakil, terrifying from a cell in the slave market, and now became mesmerizing under his feet and at his fingertips.

Eobard led him to a bustling market on the same level as his home, filled with merchants and food vendors in nearly every free space. There were stalls with silks and velvets, leathers and furs, there were spices and pottery and weapons the likes of which Cisco had never seen. They passed a booth of dwarf merchants selling finely worked metal jewelry and weaponry and Cisco stared at the short, broad beings and their wares while Eobard purchased a silver clasp for Cisco’s hair.  

While he preferred to let his long hair hang free, Cisco also knew better than to refuse a gift from his master and so he held still while Eobard pulled the hair at his temples back and into the clip.

“There, a proper Gondorian. You look very good,” Eobard praised, pulling a smile up to Cisco’s lips.

“Thank you, Eobard.”

In the area of the market dedicated to food vendors, Eobard purchased savory pies filled with succulent chunks of meat and vegetables in a rich gravy. Two flagons of frothy ale were soon acquired and the two sat down on a bench in the sun.

“Tell me about your home, Cisco.”

“What of it?” The boy asked, swallowing his first bite and taking a sip of ale.

“You have an immense knowledge in chemistry, were you a chemist there?” Eobard prompted, his face ever patient.

“I was…,” Cisco furrowed his brow, trying to think of the word in Westron. “What H-Hartley is?”

“An arrogant ass?” Eobard raised an eyebrow at his own cleverness and Cisco snickered despite himself. “I see what you mean, you were an apprentice, an assistant?”

“Yes, I learn to make potions, to heal. I create recipes.”

“And was this a family profession? Is your father also a chemist?”

Cisco was quiet for a moment. He tried not to think of his family too often, it was still painful whether he was missed by them or not. Likely they assumed he was dead, had mourned him as a fallen soldier and moved on with life already. Somehow that just made it hurt more.

“My papa and Dante, my brother, play music,” he explained, again falling short on the language and feeling frustrated with himself.

“They are musicians,” Eobard supplied. “What about your mother?”

“She tend the home, cook,” Cisco shrugged, trying not to think about the last hug his mother had given him before he left. His throat felt tight and he took a large drink of ale.

“Forgive me, I wasn’t trying to upset you. I was only curious,” Eobard smiled kindly as he noticed the change in Cisco’s mood. He brought a hand up to tuck a flyaway strand of dark hair behind the boy’s ear. “Finish your lunch and we’ll move on.”

With a small nod Cisco obeyed, letting the noise of the market fill his mind and drown out everything in his mind.

“Well, what do you think?” Eobard asked several minutes later when their meals were nearly finished.

“Is good,” Cisco replied honestly after swallowing his last bite. He’d never experienced a dish like it before and found that he wouldn’t mind eating it every day. “What is the name?”

“Meat pie,” Eobard shrugged as he finished his last bite. He reached over and using his thumb, wiped away a bit of gravy from the side of Cisco's mouth. Never taking his eyes off the boy, Eobard brought the thumb to his mouth and licked it clean.

Sucking in a breath, Cisco dropped his eyes as he felt his face burn. A week ago that gesture would have unnerved him, filled him with fear, but Eobard had not forced himself upon him as he easily could have; in fact, he had not touched him in a sexual way since Cisco's first night in his home. 

While he couldn't and wouldn't forget the fact that he was still a slave and owned by the older man, Cisco found that he liked Eobard, and Eobard's treatment of him. He found that he enjoyed Eobard's company and wondered if it would be wrong to consider this man a friend.

Draining the rest of his ale, Eobard waited for Cisco to finish his own before returning the mugs to the ale stall. “Come, I want to find something sweet that I think you will enjoy.”

They made their way to a small booth with sweet aromas floating out to the crowd from under the purple awning. A man was rolling nuts in a sticky, sweet concoction of honey and spices while a woman sold paper bags of the finished confection. 

"A bag of almonds and two spiced teas, madam," Eobard handed over two pieces of silver to the woman in exchange for a full bag. 

"T’will be just a moment for the tea, m'lord," the lady explained, motioning to a girl a few years younger than Cisco who was busy mixing spices into a large kettle of tea.

"Try one," Eobard offered to Cisco, plucking a still-warm almond out of the bag and holding it up to the boy's lips. 

Cisco opened his mouth and let Eobard place the confection on his tongue, closing his eyes in pleasure as he began to chew. It was more than just sweet, the spices adding depth to the flavor the likes of which Cisco had never experienced in a candy before; it made his mouth water even as he chewed, and made him want more, lots more. 

"Mmm...," he moaned out loud before realizing and hastily opened his eyes, feeling his blush return as Eobard chuckled. 

"I think we've found your new favorite treat. I'll need to keep this in mind when I want to tempt you."

Cisco was working up the courage to reach for another nut when a pained scream ripped through the stall. 

The young girl who had been making the tea was clutching her wrist tightly, the skin of her left hand red and angry from the scalding tea. Her parents rushed to her side and Cisco started, looking around the market quickly.

"I can help," he told Eobard, tugging the sleeve of the older man's robe.

"No one can help, Cisco. There is no immediate relief for a burn such as that. Her parents can only take her to the Houses of Healing and hope the burn doesn't scar or impede her work," Eobard explained simply as he turned away, the silver he paid for their tea forgotten. 

"No, _I_ can help!" Cisco insisted before finally finding what he was looking for. He dashed across the aisle to a spice vendor and grabbed a jar of yellow paste. The merchant shouted angrily at what he likely thought was a thief and hefted himself off his stool to chase after the boy.

Back inside the booth, Cisco pushed past the girl's parents and knelt beside the crying teen. "I can help, you will let me?"

The girl sniffled and held her hand out to the Easterling, in far too much pain to care about anything but relief. Cisco dipped his own fingers into the yellow paste and rubbed it gently over the girl's burned skin, murmuring encouragement in his native tongue to soothe her.

It wasn’t long before she stopped crying, looking at her yellow coated hand in wonder and relief. Her parents crowded close, as amazed as she was at the seeming miracle he had just performed.

“Mustard?” Eobard mused, picking up the discarded jar and sniffing it. “Mustard to sooth a burn. Your cleverness is boundless, Cisco.”

“Someone ought to pay for that!” The spice merchant snatched the half empty jar away. “Come into my booth, thinkin’ he can take whatever he pleases!”

“Yes, here,” Eobard handed a piece of silver to the red faced man who grumbled even after he left for his own booth.

“You have healed her! How can we ever thank you?” The woman was saying, grabbing bags of nuts and thrusting them toward Cisco. “Please, as a token of our gratitude!”

As much as he wanted to take the bags, Cisco looked to Eobard first for guidance, unsure of the correct custom in their particular situation. His master smiled and nodded and Cisco accepted the offerings. “Take her to House of Healing, burn needs…”

Again, Cisco looked to Eobard for help. And again, Eobard understood.

“He means the burn still needs tending, the mustard only soothed her pain.”

The couple thanked them again before they were on their way, five bags of candies nuts in tow.

 

~*~*~*~*~

The afternoon had been more enjoyable than Cisco had dared hope, Eobard had even let him keep a bag of nuts in his room, joking that he would keep the rest under lock and key lest they be gone by morning.

“Well I see he has decided to keep you.”

Cisco had just put the bag in a drawer in his bedside table when he heard the voice that could undo the magic of the day.

Hartley was leaning against his doorway when Cisco turned around, his deep blue robe loose and open down to his navel. “You must be quite pleasing. Tell me, how many times a day does he have you?”

“I…h-he doesn’t,” Cisco murmured, taking a step back as Hartley pushed off the door and stepped into the room.

“Not even once? You’ve been here how long and he hasn’t bedded you yet? What a disappointing bedslave you must be. I wonder why he has kept you around this long. Maybe he knows he wouldn’t get his money back if he sold you.” Hartley was in his personal space, looming over him and pressing Cisco against the poster of his bed. “What other use could you possibly be if not to warm his cock?”

Tears stung in Cisco’s eyes but he bit his tongue. As much as he wanted to fire back, tell Hartley how well he and Eobard worked together in his absence, how they were learning from each other and that he was more than just a bedslave now, he didn’t dare. Instead, Cisco held his tears back, refusing to let Hartley see the effect his cruel words had on him.

"Don't think for a moment that you matter, that it makes a difference whether you are here or not. If he actually wanted you, he would have had you already. Probably wishing he had never wasted his money," Hartley hissed, gripping Cisco around his upper arm tight enough to make the boy gasp in pain. There was wine heavy on his breath as he leaned in close. "You are property and nothing else, and if it were up to me, you'd be back on the auction block."

He let go of Cisco's arm with a rough shove, causing the boy to fall back against the bed, and left the room, his dark robes swirling behind him. 

Safely alone again, Cisco sniffled, rubbing the tender spot on his arm that would surely bruise by morning. Was Hartley right? Did Eobard regret buying him? It was true that they had bonded over the past week, and Eobard was only ever kind to him; but he hadn't once tried to bed him, even when Hartley was gone. That fact brought into sharp focus how precarious Cisco's situation truly was. If he ever stopped being pleasing, stopped serving a purpose, he could very well end up on the auction block again. 

The thought turned his stomach and made his throat tighten. In his brief time in Eobard's home he had grown comfortable, even allowed himself to feel safe; he couldn't go back now.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dinner was a horribly awkward affair, with Hartley sitting pressed close to Eobard while Cisco sat across the table, pushing his food around on his plate. 

Throughout their meal Hartley talked sweetly to Eobard as if he had never left in a fit of rage, all the while ignoring Cisco as if he weren't there at all. But no matter what Hartley said or how close he stayed to Eobard's side, the older man only had eyes for Cisco. 

Without looking up, Cisco knew Eobard was watching him, could feel the other man's eyes on his head like gentle fingers in his hair. He took a small bite of food under the scrutiny, lest he seem ungrateful for his dinner. 

"Cisco," Eobard interrupted Hartley mid-sentence, leaning forward to get a better look at the boy. "Are you alright, child? You've barely touched your dinner."

"I am well, Eobard," Cisco replied, lifting his eyes and offering a weak smile to prove his point. Daring a glance at Hartley, Cisco's smile dissolved before it could fully form at the icy cold gaze of the other young man.  

Not giving the other two a chance to object, Cisco rose from the table and gathered the empty plates, taking them to the wash basin. Hartley's earlier words echoed in his mind, making him eager to prove his worth and give Eobard a reason to keep him. 

"I missed you so much, my darling. I could barely sleep without your arms wrapped around me," Hartley was saying behind Cisco, his voice as sweet as the wine in his goblet. 

"If that were true, you would have come back sooner," Eobard observed dryly. He rose and came to Cisco's side, his presence a safe bubble to the boy. "Well, I have come to help but as usual you managed on your own. Efficient as usual, Cisco."

As casually as drying the dinner dishes, Eobard slipped his hand into Cisco's and squeezed it gently. In a flash it was gone, before Hartley could see, so quickly that Cisco would have doubted it happened at all were it not for the thudding of his heart. 

"I think I shall retire for the night. I'll see you both in the morning. Good night, Cisco. Hartley, don't drink too much."

"May I have a bath when I am done?" Cisco asked, turning to catch Eobard's attention before he left the room. 

"Of course, you need never ask," Eobard smiled fondly at Cisco.

”Sleep well, my love,” Hartley called to Eobard’s retreating form as he poured himself another glass of wine. “After you’re finished with the dishes, _slave_ , why don’t you scrub the floor. That is, since you serve no other purpose.”

The words still stung even though he knew Hartley was drunk, and they rang in his head after Hartley had sauntered out of the kitchen, bottle in tow. _You serve no other purpose_.

They lingered as Cisco filled the bath and slipped into the warm water. The fear that Eobard would cast him out, that Hartley could convince him to do so, lest he prove his own worth. But Eobard seemed pleased with him, the secret hand squeeze made it seem so, Eobard’s concern for him at dinner made it seem so. It was all so confusing, and even worse that he had no true control over it.

He could almost understand why Hartley drank so much. It certainly seemed to take the edge off.

Climbing out of the cooling bath, Cisco pulled on his robe but left his leggings off, deciding to slip back to the kitchen for another glass of wine before bed. He was certain Eobard wouldn’t mind, and likely no one would notice a single glass considering the amount Hartley had drank at dinner.

Moving soundlessly down the hall toward the kitchen, the light from Eobard’s bedroom caught his eye. Likely the older man had fallen asleep reading, and Cisco crept up to the door to make sure the candles wouldn’t catch the bedding on fire.

Though upon peeking inside, Cisco’s heart sank when he realized Eobard wasn’t asleep. Hartley was there, his pale skin glowing in the candlelight as he straddled Eobard’s hips, rolling his own seductively while he toyed with the other man’s nipples. The moans and cries from the lithe young man’s lips were breathy and pleasured, and if Eobard’s heavy breathing was anything to go by, both men were enjoying themselves immensely.

He knew he should leave, that it was wrong to stay and watch, especially such an intimate act, but Cisco couldn’t pull himself away from the door, couldn’t tear his eyes from the writhing forms on the bed. Hartley was so long and lean, so graceful as he rode his lover, how could Eobard ever want anyone else? No wonder he hadn’t bedded Cisco yet, why would he?

As he watched, face burning and palms sweating, Eobard wrapped an arm around Hartley’s slender waist, flipping their positions so that Hartley was on his back with Eobard on top. He set a rough pace, thrusting hard and fast, panting and grunting as Hartley moaned in delight. The muscles of his back rolled and undulated like waves as he drove into the body beneath him, a display of pure power and carnal lust.

It was the first time Cisco had ever seen two people together in such a way. Of course, he’d had an idea of what sex was, but to see it happening before his eyes, with someone that he already found pleasing; it had a greater effect on him than he’s expected. Cisco’s breath became shallow as he watched Eobard fucking Hartley, his own member tenting his robes as his mouth went desert dry.

Reaching down into his robes, Cisco palmed his erection as Eobard’s hips stuttered to a halt. The older man grunted collapsed onto the bed beside Hartley and Cisco backed away from the door, turning to hurry down the hall to his own room.

Safely inside, Cisco stripped out of his robe and climbed into bed, the images of what he had just witnessed still burning in his mind. On top of that, he was still hard.

In his life, Cisco had maybe had a handful of chances to bring himself off, let alone explore his body fully; it was as foreign to him as the language of Westron. Growing up with a cloying mother and sharing a bed with your older brother left little to no time alone, and even as a teenager Cisco rarely found enough time alone to touch himself and enjoy it. It only took getting caught by Dante once to make him never want to touch himself again; his brother had teased him for weeks.

But he was alone now. All alone in his own bed, in his own room, and there was no brother to tease him, or mother to chastise him.

Unsure where to start, Cisco let his hand slip below the blanket to grip his still hard cock. He took a deep breath and begin to stroke, reminding himself that he didn’t have to tug quickly in case he was discovered. The slower pace felt nice, and Cisco bit his lip as he brought his other hand down to fondle his stones, biting off a breathy moan out of instinct. He was more sensitive than he had ever realized, and took his time exploring what felt best, switching up the strokes and movements, giggling when he managed to tickle himself.

As he teased and stroked his shaft, curiosity got the better of Cisco and he let his other hand wander down past his balls, into his crevice until his fingertips brushed that secret little spot. With a tremble in his hand he pressed the pad of his middle finger to the tight furl of flesh and climaxed unexpectedly.

Cisco fell back against his pillow, panting in satisfaction as his seed cooled on his belly. It was a wholly foreign feeling but it was a good feeling, and Cisco knew this was something he would do again.

Grabbing a washcloth from the wash basin, he cleaned himself up and crawled back into bed, sleepy and contented. That night, as he slept, his dreams were filled with a strong body above his own, pressing him to his bed and making him moan in pleasure.

He woke the following morning sticky with his own release and just a little out of breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I would love to hear what you think! Please don't be shy! Comments make it all worthwhile!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter with Eobard's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to thenarator, who was the inspiration for it. 
> 
> The chapter is much shorter than the rest but I wanted to keep each character POV it's own separate chapter. Also, I wanted to post something so that you knew I hadn't given up on this. The updates are going slower than anticipated, as they always do, but I'm still very much invested in this fic.

Among his many skills, Eobard Thawne was incredibly good at reading people, it was a trait that seemed to come naturally throughout his whole life. He could tell when someone was being less than genuine, when someone was using a front to hide their fear or insecurities, when someone was smarter than they let on.

Hartley had always been easy to read; growing up spoiled and pampered, he expected to be treated better than everyone else because he truly believed he was. While he was capable of real feelings and affection, there would never be anyone in Middle Earth that he would love as much as he loved himself, and it had been clear since the moment they had met.

In the beginning, it was part of what had drawn him to Hartley, the uncomplicated aspect of a lover who didn’t demand more than Eobard was willing to give as long as he worshipped Hartley’s body for the magnificent specimen that it was.

With Caitlin, she was more intelligent than Eobard could ever hope to be, but she didn’t flaunt her knowledge as a lesser being might. Her intelligence and humility earned her respect and reverence and Eobard gave it freely, enjoying her company and the calm that her presence seemed to evoke. There was nothing that she needed to prove or disprove, and therefore was one of the most genuine creatures Eobard had ever met; that in itself was enough to earn his admiration.

And then there was Cisco; completely guileless and more genuine than the beautiful elf, he was easier to read than a children’s book. To someone without a penchant for reading others, Cisco hid his intelligence well, at least until it was necessary to reveal. Eobard suspected a lifetime of negative reinforcement had led the boy to hide his brilliant mind from others.

Beyond that, he was starved for affection and acceptance. The simplest of compliments made him glow and earnest praise seemed to make him positively vibrate with joy; it was almost too easy to earn his trust and devotion. From what Eobard could glean of Cisco’s previous life, his family had not been supportive of his choice of profession and never expected him to come home from the war; it wasn’t any wonder that he clung to every scrape of approval he was thrown.

Of course, Eobard knew he could have bedded Cisco the night he took him home. It would have been so easy, and not because the boy was a slave; even in the beginning Cisco had been so eager to please, to prove his worth, he likely would have offered no resistance.

But that wasn’t why Eobard had bought Cisco. Though, to be fair, he still wasn’t exactly sure why he did buy him, other than the fact that his rarely seen conscience wouldn’t let him pass by without saving the boy from an uncertain fate.

And while it would have been nothing to have that trembling body underneath him whenever he pleased, Eobard wasn’t the kind of man to take what he wanted by force. Better to give Cisco what he needed, affection, acceptance, and praise, and let the boy come to him. Why make him cry in pain and fear when making him sob in pleasure is sweeter? It would be more rewarding to wait until Cisco was willing, until he was pliant and ready and begging for it; and Eobard had all the time in the world.

 

~*~*~*~*~

He hadn’t planned on fucking Hartley after his tantrum and sudden departure; and Eobard was no idiot, he could see through the sickly sweet words when his lover came back, more disgusted than anything else by Hartley’s thin ploy. Not to mention the younger man’s drinking had obviously gotten worse while he was gone; Eobard had expected him to pass out well before even making it to their bed. But when Hartley had sauntered in, his body warm and his voice soft, Eobard had closed his eyes and reluctantly given in. In truth, his waning desire for the younger man would have made it easy to resist, but Eobard craved release and Hartley’s sinful hips were a better alternative to his own hand. He’d taken him rough, knowing Hartley could handle it, his climax coming to the image of dark eyes and plush lips spread in a genuine smile.

Fucking one’s way through sexual frustration has the tendency to work up a thirst, which was the excuse Eobard gave himself for leaving the bedroom almost immediately after finishing with Hartley. The door to Cisco’s room was slightly ajar as he passed it, and while it was likely that Cisco was asleep Eobard still felt compelled to check on the boy, to satisfy his own selfish desire to see him one more time before going to sleep himself.

No candles were lit but the moonlight through the window provided enough illumination for Eobard to make out the shape of the boy in his bed. But Cisco was not asleep, he seemed very much awake judging by his movements and the noises he was trying so hard to suppress. He was pleasuring himself, that much was certain, and Eobard leaned in just a little further to hear him better.

The noises drifting to the door, stifled panting, soft, little grunts, they were enough to make Eobard’s cock stir with renewed interest; though he knew he wasn’t going to act on that feeling. At least not yet. Better to let Cisco have his time alone, to explore himself and discover what he likes. He needed to feel safe in his new home and if this didn’t mean he felt safe, nothing would.

“ _Eobard._ ”

It was almost too soft to hear, and Eobard nearly doubted he had heard it at all. But his gut told him that he had, that Cisco had breathed his name into the night as he pleasured himself. His grip tightened on the door frame hard enough to hurt his fingers as Eobard forced himself to remain still. It was one thing to see Cisco touching himself, it was quite another to realize that he was who the boy was thinking of at that moment.

Silently and quite reluctantly, Eobard stepped away from the boy’s room, leaving him to finish alone. He might have stayed but after hearing Cisco whimpering his name, Eobard knew that he needed to remove himself before he acted on impulse in a way he would regret.

 

~*~*~*~*~

Thankfully, Hartley was asleep by the time Eobard came back; most likely due to the amount of wine he had drank. Eobard made a mental note to check his stores and purchase more in the morning.

Even after their coupling Eobard didn’t relish the thought of sharing a bed with Hartley, still too bitter about his behavior since Cisco arrived. But he was too tired to make any effort to the contrary, and after stripping out of his robe, climbed into bed beside the sleeping young man.

As he settled in on his side of the bed, the thought of Cisco brought with it a warm feeling, and Eobard smiled smugly. It was only a matter of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it. Comments keep me inspired...
> 
> Thanks again to thenarator for the idea.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is split between Cisco's POV in the beginning and Eobard's for the remaining two thirds.

Cisco slept better than he could remember, even since coming to Eobard’s home; he woke in the morning feeling rested and refreshed, and not at all guilty about touching himself. If anything, it felt just a little exciting knowing he could touch himself like that every night if he wanted, and there was no one to stop him or tease him about it.

As usual, Cisco woke before Eobard and Hartley, and he set to work in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Though Eobard had made it clear that Cisco was not responsible for cooking their meals, he found that he enjoyed the task; especially early in the morning before the others woke. The domesticity of it was calming and Cisco enjoyed having at least one task that he could complete entirely on his own, without watchful or judging eyes. While he would have preferred to be able to do the same in Eobard's lab, making breakfast was a good start.

"You're up early." Eobard's voice pulled Cisco from his own thoughts as the older man came up behind him. He reached around Cisco's body to the steaming teapot on the stove. 

"Always," the boy replied, wondering what his master meant.

"I assumed you would sleep in today," Eobard shrugged easily, pouring himself and Cisco each a cup of tea. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you. Did you?" Cisco stirred honey and cream into the porridge on the stove.

"Very well. I had...pleasant dreams."

It seemed a peculiar thing to say but Cisco wasn't about to complain about his master's good mood. He smiled in response and brought the porridge to the table, filling two bowls. It was pointless to cook for Hartley so he had given up trying. 

"Smells delicious as always, Cisco, thank you," Eobard took a deep inhale over his bowl before starting to eat and Cisco couldn't help but beam at the praise. It felt good to be appreciated, to feel like he mattered; even more so because he knew his knowledge and abilities were appreciated in the lab as well.

"In what style did you wear your hair in Rhun?" 

"My hair? Like this?" Cisco gathered his long strands in his hands and pulled them all to the back of his head, resting where his head met his neck.

"I think it would very fetching with a few simple braids," Eobard mused as he watched the dark tresses fall back over Cisco's shoulders. "Would you permit me to braid it after breakfast? You can wear your new clip when it's done.”

Cisco nodded, wondering as he always did why Eobard felt the need to ask his permission for anything. "Will Hartley..."

"I have a feeling Hartley will be sleeping rather late this morning," Eobard finished for him, seeming to understand Cisco's concern as he often did. 

After finishing their breakfast Eobard led Cisco to the washroom, sitting him on a stool in the warm morning sun. He picked up a bone comb and gently pulled it through the boy's hair. "So lovely, I think your hair is the finest I have ever seen."

Cisco made a small noise in his throat in response. The sensation of another brushing through his hair gave him the most delightful chills and he found his eyes slipping closed as Eobard continued. 

"Like the richest of silks," the older man purred close to his ear and Cisco couldn't help but gasp as butterflies filled his stomach.

Once Cisco's hair was thoroughly combed and brushed, hanging like an ebony curtain down to his elbows, Eobard gathered pieces in his nimble fingers and began to braid.

"Did you know? Braiding is an act of intimacy in dwarven culture. It is only done by those who are close to and trust one another; parents and children, siblings. But also lovers and spouses. In their culture, to wear your lover's braid is a sign of your bond," Eobard explained as he carefully weaved the long strands together."

"And...in Gondor?" Cisco breathed, all but shivering from the attention. His skin felt electrified and even the soft brush of Eobard’s body against his back made him tingle.

“It could mean something…if you wanted it to,” Eobard murmured as he secured the braids with the silver clip. His voice was soft in Cisco’s ear, close enough for the breath to tickle. “Do you want it to mean something, Cisco?”

“I…I don’t know.” Cisco felt out of breath and overly warm and unable to understand his own thoughts. Did he truly want a physical intimacy with Eobard or was his touch starved body just responding to the much needed attention?

"It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to," Eobard answered the unspoken questions. He moved from behind Cisco, coming to kneel on the floor in front of the sitting boy. "I hope you know and understand by now, I would never make you do something that you didn't want."

Cisco nodded, the words helping him to feel a little more grounded. 

"Would you like to see my handiwork?" Eobard smiled as he rose and picked up a polished metal mirror and handed it to him. 

The hair on the sides and top of Cisco's head had been swept back into the braids, one on each side and one from his crown,  while the length still fell down to the middle of his back. The style highlighted the shape of his face and made his dark eyes stand out. While he had to admit that the look was flattering, Cisco wasn't immediately sure that he liked it, preferring the keep his hair flowing free as he had become accustomed to since leaving for war. 

"Very handsome if you ask me," Eobard pulled Cisco's attention away from the boy in the polished metal. "I still find it hard to believe that you didn't leave someone behind when you left."

"It is different in Rhun," Cisco replied, lowering his eyes as he sat the mirror down. He wasn't sure how to explain that someone like him, small and smart rather than tall and fierce, was not desirable in his homeland.

"Then I think their loss is our gain."

The praise made Cisco blush and he couldn't help but smile, knowing Eobard was likely enjoying the pink spreading to his ears.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

The next several days passed with as much normalcy as their household could manage. Eobard still worked with Cisco, learning from one another in the lab and assisting each other in household tasks. It was a domesticity he had never shared with Hartley, and something that until Cisco came along was nothing he had ever wanted. Though now he found himself looking forward to the simplicity of washing dishes together, braiding Cisco’s long hair, bringing him along on trips to the market.

Hartley remained his usual snarky self, drinking in excess and doing everything in his power to keep Eobard and Cisco physically separated, or remind Cisco that he had been there first.

“Papa thinks it’s time you made an honest man of me,” Hartley announced one evening, showing up halfway through dinner and pouring himself a glass of wine.

“Then your _papa_ will be very disappointed, since I have no intention of doing anything of the sort,” Eobard replied dryly, not looking up from his plate of roast and root vegetables.

“Would you be so cruel to my, my darling? How long have we been together? Don’t you think I’ve earned your hand?” Hartley crooned sweetly as he pressed in close to his lover.

“You’ve known from the beginning that I have no interest in marriage and you’ve never taken issue with it before, Hartley,” Eobard stated as plainly as if speaking of the weather. He raised his eyes to Cisco across the table but the boy was staring down at his plate and would not look up no matter how long Eobard stared.

“That was so long ago, maybe my feelings have changed. Won’t you even take them into consideration?” Hartley batted his eyes and Eobard rolled his own.

“You’re drunk, Hartley, this isn’t something to discuss right now. Why don’t you have something to eat and go to bed,” Eobard gestured to the empty plate in front of him in hopes that he could distract the younger man enough to make him forget their conversation. It wasn’t something he wanted to deal with when Hartley was inebriated, and especially not in front of Cisco.

"Don't think I can't see what's happening here," Hartley spat, the edges of his words beginning to slur. "You have your little pet now and suddenly you don't need me anymore. But I know you, Eobard, I know you better than this little foreign whore ever will, and I am not going to be tossed aside so easily!

He pushed away from the table, knocking over his chair in the process as he stumbled out of the kitchen. 

Eobard waited until he was certain Hartley was not coming back before reaching over to take Cisco's hand. The boy was still staring at his plate, his shoulders tense and rigid.

"I am sorry you had to hear that, Cisco. Please know that his words were said out of anger and jealousy. I know you are not some foreign whore, you can't let him make you feel bad."

"I know why he hates me," Cisco replied, finally raising his eyes to meet Eobard's. They were soft and sad and made the older man want to reach across the table and pull him into his lap. "His words do not hurt, but I fear they will make you...send me away. If you have to choose."

"That will never happen, I can promise you," Eobard swore, squeezing Cisco's hand reassuringly. In truth, he had been considering how to tell Hartley he wanted to end their relationship, without incurring the wrath of the brash young man and his powerful father. But Cisco didn't need the details of his dilemma, the boy had enough on his mind without Eobard’s failing relationship to add to it. "No matter what he says, I will never let you go. I will always keep you safe."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

When Eobard woke the following morning, he found Cisco in the kitchen as always, preparing a breakfast of eggs and toast. As he watched from the doorway, the older man was struck with the desire to take Cisco in his arms, to wrap him in his embrace and hold him until they could no longer stand. 

It was a strange feeling as normally Eobard wouldn’t consider himself the romantic type; if he wasn’t engaging his lover physically he had no real desire to touch otherwise. But something about Cisco made him want to cuddle, to pet and dote, to spoil Cisco with tender touches every single day. The feeling was foreign but not unwelcome, much to his surprise. If anything, he found himself relishing his newfound whimsy and knew he had the lovely, young Easterling to thank for it.

“Good morning, there is tea,” Cisco turned and smiled when he realized he was being watched. Butter was melting on their slices of toast and the eggs were as fluffy as clouds.

“There’s always tea since you came,” Eobard smiled in return, stepping up to the stove and invading Cisco’s personal space. The boy didn’t recoil or shy away, but remained where he was, looking up at Eobard with far more admiration than he deserved.

"You bring so much more to this home than I ever thought possible. I am grateful every day that you are here."

There was a time when Eobard would have only said such a thing to further his own cause, to seduce Cisco; but as he spoke he realized his words came straight from his heart. It hardly seemed possible that one person could evoke such a change in him, but there it was, the proof was beaming at him like he hung the stars.

With almost no hesitation, Cisco stepped in, closing the distance between them before raising up to his toes. His eyes slipped closed as he pressed his lips to Eobard's.

For the briefest moment Eobard could scarcely believe that it was happening and he did nothing in response. But as Cisco began to pull away, likely second guessing himself and fearing rejection, Eobard finally snapped into action. He slid his arms around the boy's waist, keeping their bodies pressed close as he began to move his lips against Cisco's.

The clumsy movements of his lips revealed Cisco's inexperience and Eobard had no doubt that this was the boy's first real kiss. There was something terribly endearing about his lack of finesse or skill and Eobard hoped it would last if for no other reason than to preserve his innocence. 

As the boy lifted his hands to rest on Eobard's shoulders, the older man took the risk and pressed his tongue against Cisco's lips, relieved when they parted willingly for him. Finally able to taste that sweetness Eobard couldn't suppress a groan as he tightened his hold around Cisco's waist. He lifted the smaller body onto the counter, never breaking their kiss and plunging his tongue further into that warm, wet cavern.

Cisco spread his legs to allow Eobard to press in close between them, his breath coming in quickly as he tried to mimic the movements of the older man's tongue. 

The soft scent of his hair and skin filled Eobard's nostrils and he breathed in deeply, greedily, wanting to be the only person ever to know how Cisco smelled this close. He brought a hand up to tangle in those dark locks, gripping a handful close to Cisco's scalp, just tight enough to pull a soft moan from the boy's lips and send shivers down his own spine.

It had been ages since something as simple as a kiss had such an effect on him, Hartley had never created the reaction Eobard was currently experiencing just from Cisco’s lips on his. He felt utterly lost in a bubble of Cisco, his touch, his scent, his soft little noises as Eobard nibbled that plump lower lip; the same lip he had seen Cisco worry between his own teeth a hundred times.

There was no urgency, no climax to strive toward, no peak to reach; there was only Eobard and Cisco and warmth and breath shared between their bodies. The rest of Middle Earth could fade from existence and it wouldn’t matter as long as he had Cisco to cling to for eternity.

“Well I guess it was only a matter of time.”

The moment was gone quicker than it arrived and they turned to find Hartley watching them from the doorway. His tired eyes still managed to burn with thinly concealed rage and his hands were clenched tight enough to whiten his knuckles.

“Hartley,” Eobard began, unsure what he was going to offer as an excuse.

“I can’t say I’m surprised, but it still makes me sick. I hope he is worth it.” There was a tremble to Hartley’s voice as he spoke the words through clenched teeth. Without giving the other two a chance to respond, he turned and stormed from the room. The sound of the front door slamming shut confirmed that he wouldn’t be back.

Turning back to Cisco, Eobard realized he still held a handful of the boy’s hair. Letting it go, he took half a step back and cupped Cisco’s face tenderly. “You have done nothing wrong, and his reaction will not change this. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“He is not going to give you up easily,” Cisco replied as he slid off the counter and straightened his robes. “Not to someone like me.”

“He won’t have a choice. He knows it’s over whether he wants it or not. You needn’t worry, this is your home now and you aren’t going anywhere.”

Cisco nodded and turned to inspect their cooling plates of breakfast.

As much as Eobard wanted to believe his own words, he had a feeling that Hartley would indeed make problems for them. The young man’s father was powerful and well respected within the upper levels, a few words from him could cost Eobard a large portion of his customers, or even his good name. While he didn’t think Hartley was quite so vindictive, he also knew he had hurt the younger man’s pride as well as his feelings. Only time would tell if Hartley would seek revenge or concede his loss gracefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm, what could possibly happen next?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Hartley leaves, Cisco and Eobard move on as if he were never there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally another chapter! With sexiness!
> 
> This chapter switches perspective about halfway through but it's pretty obvious when it does.   
> I know we've all been waiting for a little smut so I hope it doesn't disappoint!

The days following Hartley’s departure were better than Cisco could have imagined. After the initial fear that he might visit some form of revenge upon them, after Eobard’s customers continued to show up and his home remained standing, both he and Cisco relaxed and began to enjoy their solitude.

When Hartley fled, he left them feeling somber and full of trepidation; the kiss, although not forgotten, wasn’t revisited for several days. Eobard made no move to initiate any similar contact and for a time Cisco worried that perhaps the older man regretted the contact entirely. After all, it had been the catalyst that caused his lover of several years to leave. But everything else between them remained the same and he finally realized that Eobard was waiting for him to initiate anything further, was respecting his boundaries as he had since the mishap in the bathtub on that first night.

However, working up the nerve to kiss the other man again was not an easy task. While Cisco was smart and could be outgoing in the right situation, he wasn’t skilled at seduction thanks mostly to inexperience and a serious lack of confidence, and the threat of rejection always felt close at hand.

But as Cisco struggled to find the right moment, the right action and the confidence to make it so, Eobard did not seem to mind their normal routine. He carried on with their usual routines as if Hartley had never been a part of their lives, working beside Cisco during the day and schooling him in language in the evenings. Each night Cisco went to bed feeling safe and appreciated and cursing himself for not making a move.

The perfect moment arrived one evening after dinner; Eobard had just filled their wine glasses and sat himself particularly close to the boy. It felt like a silent invitation and Cisco knew it was then or never.

Building up his courage, Cisco took Eobard's goblet from his hand and took a long, slow sip, his eyes never leaving the other man's face. "Sweet."

Eobard's expression would have seemed passive as he watched the boy drink from his own cup were it not for his dilated pupils, the way his eyes followed Cisco's lips.

Emboldened, Cisco set the cup down and moved forward, leaving his chair to crowd into Eobard's personal space. He slipped onto the other man's lap, straddling his hips and biting his lip before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Eobard's mouth. "Sweet."

"So sweet," Eobard breathed before pulling Cisco against him and slotting their mouths together, dissolving all of the boy's insecurities and anxiety as he held him tightly.

Cisco wrapped his arms around the older man's shoulders and opened his mouth willingly to the tongue that sought entrance. His stomach was filled with nervous flutters but he found he liked the feeling as much as he liked Eobard's kisses. 

“Sweet, perfect boy,” Eobard murmured against Cisco’s lips before drifting over his jaw to his neck, paying reverent attention to the sensitive skin there. His hands were on Cisco’s clothes, inside them, untying his robe and exposing his chest.

The blunt scrape of teeth across his collarbone coupled with the sharp tweak of a nipple made Cisco whine in a decidedly embarrassing pitch; though in that moment he couldn’t think about anything beyond the physical pleasure his body was experiencing.

There was a hand snaking into his robes, parting them and exposing his flesh and causing him to shiver from the cool air, from the touch to his sensitive skin. The hand slipped into his leggings, freeing his hardened member from the soft fabric and Cisco let his eyes slip closed as his face burned.

“I’ll stop if this isn’t what you want,” Eobard’s voice was no more than a breath against his ear and Cisco shook his head in quick response.

“I…I want,” was all he could manage as he arched into the touch, rolling his hips against the teasing fingertips and seeking more greedily.

In an instant the touch was gone and Cisco opened his eyes, fearful that he had done something wrong. But Eobard released his own erection from within his robes before taking both into his large hand, stroking them in unison.

Cisco’s eyes widened as he watched, seeing Eobard’s cock for the first time, feeling his own climax approaching shamefully quick as Eobard’s long fingers slid over their erections. His breaths came in short pants as he stared, transfixed by the slide of flesh, the feeling of being stroked to completion by a hand other than his own.

In the end Cisco was able to hold out for hardly more than a minute, his release spurting over Eobard’s hand to land on the other man’s chest and abdomen.

“That’s it, good boy,” Eobard praised as he let Cisco’s softening cock slip from his grasp. Continuing to stroke himself, he cupped the back of Cisco’s head and pulled him in for an urgent kiss. The boy was dazed from his orgasm, his mouth slack yet still inviting, and he let Eobard take his pleasure between his somewhat limp lips.

A half dozen strokes and Eobard found his own release, adding to the spend Cisco had left on his stomach.

"Look at the mess you've made, naughty child," Eobard purred, causing Cisco to chuckle breathlessly. 

Leaning forward, Cisco rested his forehead against the older man's in an attempt to return his breathing to normal. He felt pleasantly lightheaded and warm, and Eobard nosing along his hairline sent delicious shivers down his spine. 

"Come to bed with me," Eobard murmured against the shell of the boy's ear. "I won't touch you apart from holding you, I give you my word."

Cisco considered the offer briefly before deciding that he was already past the point of no return. "Yes, take me to bed."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Though he had seen Eobard's room before, Cisco realized as he stepped through the door that he'd never truly been inside it. It wasn't much different from his own room, larger in size with a larger bed, dressed in black velvet and grey silk, there was no denying it was a handsome room; but being inside it still filled him with a sense of danger. This was the room where Eobard and Hartley lived as lovers, this was the bed they had shared. Cisco felt like an interloper and intruder in the personal space and he lingered close to the door.

“I promised I wouldn’t try anything else and I meant it.” Eobard had misread his reticence, thinking Cisco was worried he might be pressured into sex.

In truth that worry never truly left his mind, even in his most relaxed moments; how could a person sold as a pleasure slave not fear such a thing? But he had come to trust Eobard far more than he had originally thought possible, and Cisco knew he would not be taken against his will that night.

“I know, that is not my fear,” he explained with a weak smile, stepping further into the room, his robe hanging carelessly off one shoulder. After cleaning themselves up, neither had felt the need to fully dress again, and Cisco hadn’t bothered to retie his robe.

“Then what is it you fear?” Eobard’s face was one of genuine concern as he stood a few feet away. It was a display of respect for Cisco’s personal space and it didn’t go unnoticed.

 _Hartley,_ Cisco wanted to explain. _I am afraid that he will come back and convince you to sell me. I am afraid you will grow tired of me the same way you grew tired of him, and you will cast me out with nothing or sell me to someone cruel._ But he shook his head and smiled sweetly. “Not you. I do not fear you as I once did.”

"I am glad to hear it, you have no reason to fear me, Cisco, I swear to you." Eobard seemed satisfied with Cisco's answer as he pulled back the blankets on the bed and patted the mattress. "Come, I want to feel you beside me."

Cisco blushed and let go of his robe, letting it slip down his shoulders to the floor. Being naked in front of Eobard wasn't as unnerving as it once was, but he still felt a deeply ingrained shyness and hurried to climb under the covers. 

The sheets hand been laundered and changed since Hartley left, and much to Cisco's relief they only smelled of lavender and of Eobard's natural scent. He found it calming as he settled under the blankets and watched the other man move about the room.

After stripping himself, Eobard blew out the bedside candle and slipped under the blankets to next to Cisco. Gently, he turned the boy onto his side and spooned up behind him, pressing their bodies together from shoulder to thigh. 

"I've wanted to hold you like this since I brought you home," he breathed into Cisco's hair, pushing his nose through it to nuzzle at the back of his neck.

Sucking in a breath at the words, Cisco closed his eyes and said nothing. Eobard felt nice pressed against his back, warm and strong, his hand draped loosely around Cisco's waist. It was an intimacy he hadn't known he had needed so badly until he had it, and Cisco blinked away the wetness in his eyes, swallowing hard at the lump in his throat. 

"Do you want me to stop?" Eobard asked softly, lifting his arm from Cisco's waist.

"No, please," Cisco placed his hand over Eobard's, pulling it back down over his stomach. 

"You're safe now, I will always take care of you," the older man whispered, tightening his hold around him, and Cisco believed it.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Sleep wasn't normally a problem for Eobard.

He considered himself to be one of the rare but blessed people who never suffered insomnia and always awoke feeling refreshed. But he realized he had not known true peace before Cisco came to his bed. Waking up next to the boy felt more like home than anything else in his life before that moment; it made Eobard appreciate that he had taken his time with Cisco's seduction and let the boy come to him. 

Rolling over and blinking the sleep from his eyes, Eobard took a moment to appreciate the innocent beauty of a sleeping Cisco. Laying on his side and facing Eobard, Cisco's long flashes fanned over his cheeks prettier than any woman he had ever beheld, his plump lips slightly open as he snored softly. Over his shoulder and on the pillow behind him, Cisco's dark hair rippled outward like spilled ink, completing the image of utter tranquility and peace.

Reaching out, Eobard ran the pad of his thumb over the boy's bottom lip, unsurprised when the lip was sucked into his mouth by reflex. Eobard smiled fondly at the sight and gently nudged Cisco's shoulder until he rolled onto his back. 

The morning air was chilled but Eobard burned as he slowly pulled the blanket from Cisco's frame, watching with growing desire as the tanned skin pebbled with chills, his nipples hardening to small brown peaks once exposed to the cold. His cock was soft and small, still too deep in sleep for a morning erection, and Eobard lightly teased it with his fingertips, lifting it into his hand just to feel it grow from his ministrations. 

"Good boy," he praised to the sleeping body when his erection swelled fully. Moving himself down the bed slowly, Eobard leaned in to breath coolly over the hardness, delighting in the way Cisco shivered in his sleep. "Very good boy."

Of course Eobard knew it was wrong, at the very least morally grey. Cisco couldn't consent in his sleep, Eobard knew he was molesting his would-be lover, but the sleeping boy was too enticing and his desires overrode his conscious without a second thought. Hovering over Cisco's hips, Eobard leaned in and took the erection into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the shaft. 

The noises Cisco made were enough to drive away any lingering doubt or guilt from his mind. His whimper was needy, desperate, begging wordlessly for more as he canted his hips upward into the warmth of Eobard's mouth. As the velvety head bumped against the back of his throat, Eobard rewarded Cisco with a teasing touch to his stones, rolling them gently in his hand as he continued to bob eagerly over the cock in his mouth.

A surprised gasp and Eobard raised his eyes to see that Cisco had woken up, was staring at him with a mix of lust, confusion, and horror.

“Y-you can’t! I…I haven’t bathed, Eobard, please!” Cisco stuttered, gripping the blankets and attempting to cover himself.

“You taste sweeter than any confection,” Eobard smirked, holding the blanket tightly in one fist to keep the boy from pulling it any further. “Now lay back and allow me to indulge to my fill.”

Cisco seemed torn between protesting further and obeying; Eobard made the decision for him by taking him yet again into his mouth. With a deep moan that surprised them both, Cisco fell back onto the bed, eyes tightly closed as he arched his back.

It felt like victory as Cisco spread his legs wider and whined in desperation. Eobard smiled around his mouthful and swiped his tongue over Cisco’s slit.

"Ah, please!" Cisco cried, bucking his hips and pushing his cock deeper into Eobard's hungry mouth. He said no more but it was easy enough to discern for what he was begging.

It wouldn't be long before Cisco reached his climax, and the decision of whether or not to take his release was an easy one for Eobard. His desire to taste all that Cisco had to offer would be well sated, at least for the moment. 

As Cisco's gasps and whimpers grew louder, as he bucked his hips in a stuttering rhythm, Eobard opened his throat and prepared to swallow all of the boy's seed.

He wasn't disappointed as Cisco finally climaxed, spending into the older man's mouth as he cried out loudly. For his part, Eobard swallowed quickly and continued to hold Cisco in his mouth, savoring the taste of his young lover until Cisco began to soften. 

Pulling off, Eobard quickly crawled up the bed to kiss Cisco, a hungry, possessiveness inside making him need to have Cisco taste himself. The boy opened his lips on contact before making a noise of dissatisfaction in the back of his throat at the new flavor invading his mouth. Eobard couldn’t help but chuckle as Cisco pulled away, a look of betrayal on his face.

“Not everyone appreciates their own essence,” he explained after licking his lips and stretching out alongside the smaller body. “I find it can be an acquired taste with…dedication.”

Cisco looked skeptical but scooted in for a cuddle, stopping when he felt Eobard’s erection against his hip. There was uncertainty in his eyes, mingled with determination, and without a word he started to move down the bed, intent on returning the favor.

As much as Eobard desired him, as much as he wanted to see those plush lips stretched over his cock, he also knew Cisco wasn’t ready. It wouldn’t do to rush him now after finally earning his trust, and Eobard was more than willing to find pleasure in giving pleasure, especially with one as inexperienced as Cisco. Watching him through each new sensation felt akin to experiencing the moments for the first time all over again.

“No, not yet,” Eobard smiled, pulling Cisco back up to lay against his chest.

“My hand then?” The boy offered, reaching down the older man’s stomach.

“Cisco, relax,” Eobard cooed, gently snatching up the errant hand and pressing a kiss to the palm. “It’s early yet, just let me hold you.”

The look of confusion persisted as Cisco lifted himself to his elbow to face Eobard. "I...I don't understand."

"Giving you pleasure brings me pleasure. I don't expect you to reciprocate, that isn't why I did it," Eobard explained, cupping the boy's face with one hand.

"I am your bed slave," Cisco murmured, eyes cast down as he contemplated his own words. 

Neither had said anything close to them in weeks, and not since Hartley left had Eobard even thought about the fact that Cisco was still a slave. It was something he knew he couldn't ignore forever, that if he wanted Cisco to stay of his own free will he would need to set him free and give him the option. But he wasn't willing to take the risk just yet.

"Your very presence gives me pleasure." It was the truth and it bypassed the conversation altogether.

Though he didn't look quite convinced, Cisco accepted the answer and laid his head on Eobard's chest. 

Eobard pulled the blanket over them and wrapped his arm tightly around the boy's shoulders. Yes, it was a topic he would need to face soon enough, but for the moment, with Cisco’s skin glowing in the early morning light, he put it out of his head and pulled Cisco closer. Soon, but not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for continuing to follow this story! Hopefully the chapters will be coming faster now.   
> I'd love to hear what you thought!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to anyone who is still interested in this. Thanks for your patience. What can I say? Writers block is tough to conquer.

“Well this is rather inconvenient.”

“Hmm?” Cisco looked up from his mixing at the sound of Eobard’s voice.

“I need to get supplies to the healer in Ithilien but my usual couriers are not available,” Eobard was looking over his supply list with a frown as he walked back into the laboratory.

“Can you hire others?”

“I would rather not. These particular items have a rather high value, I don’t want to give them to a courier I don’t trust, they may never arrive at their destination. It seems I have no other choice than to take them myself,” Eobard sighed, setting down his list and rubbing his brow in frustration.

“To Ithilien?” Cisco stopped his work and stepped around the table. “How long will it take?”

“Just a couple days, two there and two back if the roads are clear.” Eobard turned, noticing the worried look on Cisco’s face. “You aren’t afraid to stay here alone, are you?”

Cisco swallowed and shrugged. While he was glad that Eobard trusted him enough to leave him alone for nearly a week, the older man represented the only security he had in his new home. “No, I am not afraid.”

“Are you sure? I would take you with me but we’re backed up on orders as it is. I need you here to complete them while I’m gone.” Eobard took Cisco’s hands in his and held them to his chest. “You’re my brave boy, aren’t you?”

Ducking his head, Cisco couldn’t help hide his grin as he felt his ears burn. It was shameful how easy it was for Eobard to get him to this state of gooey mush.

“Yes, you are,” Eobard purred approvingly before closing the distance between them to peck Cisco’s lips. “I’ll take you with me next time, have you ever seen Ithilien?”

“I think…o-on the march to Minas Tirith,” Cisco muttered as he looked down at the floor. He didn’t like to think about those months between leaving Rhun and coming into Eobard’s home, much less talk about them.

But as usual, Eobard seemed to understand what wasn’t spoken and pulled Cisco into a hug. “The next time you see it will be with me, and I will make sure you enjoy yourself.”

With a sigh, Cisco leaned in and let Eobard hold him as long as he pleased. The past was never completely gone, but he avoided actively thinking about the war as much as possible; Cisco's time in Eobard's home had helped him to dare to feel safe, but moments like this reminded him that the memories were always waiting just under the surface and safety was never a guarantee. 

Those memories coupled with the anxiety of Eobard leaving diminished Cisco's good mood and he found himself pouting as he helped the other man organize and pack the supplies for his trip.

"I won't be gone that long," Eobard cooed as he slipped his arms around Cisco's waist from behind. He nosed along the boy's hairline behind his ear as he pressed their bodies flush. "There's plenty of food and I'm leaving you a list of elixirs and tonics to make, so you'll have work to keep you busy. I know you hate being idle."

"If someone comes?" Cisco asked, unsure of the protocol of handling orders and requests on his own.

"Don't open the door except for someone you know; Caitlin, Lady McGee, Lord Eiling. I'll post a notice on the door that I'm not in so you shouldn't have many visitors," Eobard promised, smoothing his hands over Cisco's belly and hips. “Will you miss me?”

“I’ll hardly notice that you’re gone.” Cisco was surprised at his own words. Perhaps he had grown comfortable enough to let his wit show. “At least the food will be better while I am the only one cooking.”

“Oh ho! This child has sharp teeth!” Eobard staggered back playfully as if he had been knocked off balance. “I shall have to bring you a treat, something to make my return welcomed. Perhaps a bag of candied almonds?”

“Two bags,” Cisco replied with a broad smile. Feeling emboldened by their exchange, He stepped into Eobard’s personal space, slipping his arms around the taller man’s neck as he rose up on his toes. “And a kiss to remember.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

Eobard had been right, Cisco hated being idle, and for that reason he was grateful for the laundry list the other man had left him. The elixirs and tonics were easy to prepare and he had a good portion of the list completed shortly after lunch.

The sound of the front door opening didn't startle him; Eobard was the only one with a key to it and he had only been gone a short while. Chances were that he had left something behind and turned back for it before he left the city.

"What have you forgotten?" Cisco asked with a grin when he felt eyes upon his back. He didn't turn right away, continuing to work as he waited for a response. 

"He's forgotten his little pet, by the looks of it."

The familiar voice made Cisco's blood run cold and he spun around to find Hartley watching him from the doorway, a look of dark triumph on his face.

"What are you doing here?" Cisco breathed, backing up against the table without realizing it.

"I knew it would only be a matter of time before he left you alone," Hartley replied as easily as if discussing the weather. He pulled a key from his pocket and slung it in a circle with the string around on one finger. He looked pale and drawn, like he hadn’t slept more than a few hours since he had left the home. "Eobard neglected to collect my key, and I certainly knew better than to offer it."

"What do you want?" A quick sweep of his eyes over the room reminded Cisco that there was only one door to the laboratory; the same door that Hartley was currently blocking. 

"The same thing I have wanted since Eobard brought you home like a lost puppy," Hartley put the key away and took a few steps forward into the room. "To send you back to the lower levels where you belong!"

He lunged forward and Cisco ducked, sprinting to the right and around a table. With his heart thudding in his ears he dashed toward the door, Hartley just half a step behind him as he bolted down the hall. If he could get to the street there was a chance of losing Hartley in the crowd, but the laboratory was at the far end of Eobard's home and the front door felt so very far away.

As they approached the kitchen Hartley reached out and grabbed a handful of Cisco's long hair, pulling it back sharply and causing Cisco to stumble. 

The boy used the momentum and threw his body back against Hartley's, sending them both sprawling into the kitchen as dishes and pots clattered around them to the floor. 

"You little wretch!" Hartley growled as he pinned Cisco to the floor, using his longer limbs to hold him in place. "I should kill you here on the floor! But the thought of selling you off to some ill-tempered brothel master is just too enticing."

Cisco's blood ran cold at the words and he struggled even harder under Hartley's weight. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a cast iron pot just out of reach, but he stretched his arm out nonetheless. He had to escape, there was no way Hartley would let him go now that he had him.

"And when you're being used by strange men and beaten by your new master I want you to think of me, and know that _I always win_ ," Hartley sneered triumphantly.

Though his satisfaction was short-lived, for while he was taunting Cisco he had loosened his grip on the boy's arm just enough to allow Cisco to reach the pot. 

With a loud cry, he swung the cast iron as hard as he was able, catching Hartley on the side of the head with a loud _thwack_!

The young man slumped to the floor and blood instantly began to pool around his head. Cisco gasped and struggled to get from underneath Hartley’s dead weight, shuffling back and away until he had backed himself against a cabinet.

Hartley was unconscious, that much was clear, but the extent of his injuries were not; he lay unmoving as his blood seeped into the cracks of the stone floor, running over the grout and stretching toward Cisco like the legs of a spider. Had Cisco killed him? He had only been trying to get away, to save himself!

Scrambling to his feet, Cisco ran from the room and out the front door of Eobard’s home. If he had killed Hartley then surely he would be arrested and punished. And if he hadn’t killed him then Hartley was likely to keep his word and sell Cisco before Eobard got back. And would Eobard even want him now, knowing that he had injured Hartley so grievously?

The front door slammed closed behind Cisco as he fled but he didn't stop. The street was mostly empty in the late afternoon and he sped through the narrow lanes as fast as his bare feet could carry him. The market came in to view in a few short minutes, still crowded and bustling with late day shoppers but that didn't slow him down. A few patrons stopped to take note of the disheveled Easterling hurrying through the crowd but none tried to approach or stop him. 

He didn't know where he was going, all he knew was that he had to get away from Eobard's home and what was likely a crime scene. With a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being followed, Cisco continued on, the edge of the market in sight. But as he turned his head forward again he ran smack into the back leg of a large brown horse.

The animal whinnied in protest and stamped its hooves while Cisco lost his balance and fell back onto his bottom. 

"Whoa there," the rider soothed in a deep voice. "Are you alright there, son?"

Cisco raised his eyes and to his horror realized he had ran straight into the horse of a city guardsman! When Cisco didn't reply, the man swung himself off his mount and offered a hand to help him to stand. 

The man was tall, towering over Cisco, and handsome with a dark complexion and neatly trimmed beard. His voice was rich and velvety but in that moment Cisco hardly spared a thought to his looks or anything other than the fact that he was a guardsman.

Instead of accepting the assistance, he scooted back away from the guard, shaking his head. "I am fine, I do not need help."

"Easterling? I can tell from your accent," the guard crouched down in front of the boy, looking him over but making no move to touch him. "Where are you headed in such a hurry? Do you belong to someone? Are you lost?"

"He's not wearing a collar, sir," another guard had approached them. This one was younger and fair, with blond hair peeking out from under his helmet. "He may be free."

"This soon after the war? I doubt it. And if he was it still wouldn't be safe to be out here on his own. There’s a lot of folks that would take revenge for Pelennor Fields on the first Easterling they saw," the first guard replied, looking from Cisco’s red-rimmed eyes down to his bare feet. "Can you tell us who you belong to? We can take you home. It’s alright, you’re not in trouble with us."

There was no way he could let them take him back to Eobard’s home, not with Hartley still bleeding out on the floor, but Cisco’s instinct told him the lieutenant wasn’t going to leave him alone in the street either. “L-lady Caitlin, the elf healer.”

“The elves don’t usually keep slaves, Lieutenant,” the fair haired guard told his superior. He leaned in toward the other man and lowered his voice, though Cisco still heard, “I think he may be in some kind of trouble, might have ran away.”

“Is that true, boy? Are you in trouble? Is your master abusing you?” The lieutenant pressed, concern on his face.

Cisco pulled his lower lip between his teeth to keep it from trembling. “Please, Lady Caitlin.”

The lieutenant looked skeptical, like he wanted more information from Cisco, but after another moment of study he rose and offered his hand again. “Alright then, let us escort you to the Lady’s house. The streets aren’t safe for an Easterling alone.”

This time Cisco took the hand and let the captain help him to standing. Once he was upright the larger man lifted him without warning and swung Cisco up onto the back of his horse. He yelped in surprise and for a moment went rigid when the lieutenant climbed on behind him.

“Don’t worry, son, Eddie and I will get you to safety. You have nothing to fear.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

The home of Lady Caitlin was on the same level as Eobard’s and much to Cisco’s relief, it didn’t take very long before they had arrived. Once they had dismounted, the lieutenant and his partner put Cisco between them as they waited for someone to answer the door.

“Lieutenant West, how nice to see you. I trust your shoulder is feeling better?” The Lady was just as much a vision as she had been the first time Cisco saw her, resplendent in a flowing gold dress with her long waves cascading like honey down her back.

“Yes, my Lady, and thank you,” Lieutenant West grinned shyly and rubbed absently at the shoulder in question. Though Cisco hadn’t known him long it was evident that the guard was just as taken with Caitlin as he was.

“And your lovely daughter? How fairs Miss Iris?”

“Hard at work with the other scribes recording recent events. I hardly see her as of late,” Lieutenant West sighed before remembering his reason for his visit. “My Lady, we have found a boy in the street who says he belongs to you.”

The words felt like a cue and Cisco stepped out from behind the lieutenant’s back. When Caitlin’s eyes fell upon him her expression only changed to soften with a smile and she nodded.

“Yes, he does belong here. Thank you to you both for delivering him to me safely. Can I offer you a cup of tea for your troubles?”

“That’s very kind of you but we are on duty and we should get back to our rounds,” Eddie answered when it seemed that Lieutenant West was ready to take her up on the offer.

“Of course, thank you both again. Come, Cisco, let’s get you inside where you belong,” Caitlin stepped aside to allow him through the door.

The two guards bowed politely before Caitlin closed the door. Once they were alone in the foyer she turned and looked him over, a delicate, slender hand cupping his face gently. “Cisco, what has happened? Has Eobard done this?”

Cisco could only shake his head in answer before the tears began to fall. Through choking sobs he told Caitlin everything, Hartley’s departure, his budding relationship with Eobard, Hartley’s attack, their fight and his subsequent escape.

Caitlin listened without a trace of anger or judgement on her face, and when Cisco had finally recounted everything, when his sobs had dwindled to hiccups and sniffles, she guided him to a sitting room and onto a large comfortable bench.

"Cisco, you must know none of this was your fault. Do you understand that?" She asked, taking his hands in her own and holding them gently.

Rather than answer honestly, Cisco shrugged, wiping at his nose on the sleeve of his robe. 

"You didn't ask for any of this and you have brought nothing onto yourself," Caitlin pressed, squeezing Cisco's hands softly. "What Hartley did, what he tried to do, was unconscionable and there is no one to blame but him."

"But I...I hit him so hard. I might have killed him!" Cisco insisted, his tears flowing anew at the possibility. 

"You were defending yourself, he couldn't have expected you to come along willingly," Caitlin countered easily. 

"My love, do we have a visitor?" 

Cisco raised his eyes to see a tall, strapping man enter the room, wiping his hands on an oily rag. He was obviously human, dressed simply in breeches and a tunic with tall boots. His eyes were kind like Caitlin’s as he looked Cisco over in curiosity.

"Yes, dearest, this is Cisco, Eobard Thawne's ward, about whom I told you?" Caitlin coaxed and Cisco could see a silent understanding pass between them.

"Right, of course, welcome to our home, Cisco. I would shake your hand but," the man held up a greasy palm and grinned as he wiggled his filthy fingers.

"This is my husband, Ronnie. He is the chief engineer of Minas Tirith's water system and is responsible for providing clean water to the White City," Caitlin explained, beaming with pride as she watched the rugged man. 

"What brings you here, Cisco?" Ronnie asked and Caitlin quickly rose to usher him out of the room. 

"I won't be but a moment, Cisco."

Their voices were low and Cisco was too shaken and frazzled to even bother straining his ears to hear them, something told him that he didn’t need to listen anyway; he was safer here than he had been with Eobard. But Caitlin kept her promise and was back in the room after a brief absence.

"I have given Ronnie instructions to go to Eobard's home and take Hartley to the Houses of Healing. He will be tended to there and won't be released until he is healed. You will stay here with us until Eobard returns, and only then will it be decided what is to be done with Hartley for his unprompted attack. I imagine Eobard will demand persecution and Hartley's family will exert their power to avoid it." There was bitterness in those last words and Cisco wondered if everyone felt similarly about the Rathaway family.

A soft touch to his face brought Cisco from his thoughts and he raised his eyes to meet Caitlin’s.

“Whatever is decided, whatever action is taken, I swear to you that you are safe. Hartley can’t hurt you ever again, Ronnie and I won’t allow it.”

The elf’s words had a conviction in them that helped Cisco manage a weak smile. He might never feel completely safe in this new land, but he felt for the first time since arriving that he had a friend. Caitlin was the first person who seemed to care for him without wanting anything in return and Cisco realized this must be what it felt like to have a sister.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next few days passed slowly. Ronnie had taken Hartley to the Houses of Healing where he was treated for his contusion and held under observation by the city guard until Eobard returned home.

Since Cisco still belonged to him, only Eobard could choose to bring charges against the youngest Rathaway, a law that Cisco found both humiliating and frustrating.

But his time with Caitlin and Ronnie was pleasant and he found that he had little time to think about the failings of judiciary system of Minas Tirith. Cisco was given his own room in their home and invited to make himself comfortable just as in Eobard’s home. But more than that, Caitlin and Ronnie included him in their daily activities as if he had always been there with them.

Caitlin did not have a laboratory as Eobard did, but rather a quite courtyard that filled with the morning sun each day. It was there that Caitlin instructed Cisco in the ways of elvish healing, the prayers and words that helped to focus and channel energy into a positive and powerful force. There were moments in that sunlight courtyard, chanting the elvish words in time with Caitlin that Cisco was sure he could feel the healing energy flowing from his core to his limbs, and outward from his fingertips. It was in those moments that he felt a sense of peace and calm that he had not experienced for a long time.

Each experience left him feeling pleasantly lightheaded and warm, and marveling at how willingly Caitlin would share such a gift.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was just before dinner on the fourth day that Eobard arrived at Caitlin’s home, having found the written note Ronnie had left explaining what had happened and that Cisco was with them.

Cisco and Ronnie had been preparing dinner when Caitlin called for them, and Cisco knew it meant Eobard had come. For a moment, he was unable to move from his spot, unsure of Eobard’s feelings, of what his reaction would be to seeing Cisco again, and he briefly considered never moving from that spot again.

But Ronnie’s hand on his shoulder was reassuring and soon Cisco found himself face to face with Eobard in the sitting room. Eobard’s usually calm and collected façade had slipped and his handsome face was creased with worry, and the deep sigh of relief when he saw Cisco made his feelings clear.

“Cisco,” he breathed, stepping forward to pull Cisco into a tight hug, dropping any pretense of decorum in front of Caitlin and Ronnie. “When I saw the letter…how could I have been so stupid, how could I have left you alone? Can you ever forgive me? Sweet boy, I am so sorry.”

It was almost too much to hear. This wasn’t Eobard’s fault, at least not in Cisco’s mind, and knowing that Eobard blamed himself was unbearable.

“No, he…Hartley said…he said he was going to sell me and he attacked and I…,” Cisco stammered, anxiety and adrenaline was coursing through his body, closing his throat and blurring his vision. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“It wasn’t your fault, I don’t need to have witnessed it to know that’s true,” Eobard soothed, cupping Cisco’s face in his hands. “And once he is healed, Hartley will pay for his behavior. I plan to bring charges against him and I’m setting you free, his punishment will be more severe for attacking a free citizen.”

“You’re…setting me free?” It was too much to even hope for and Cisco’s heart began to pound.

“Well yes, of course. I had planned on freeing you earlier but…admittedly I was worried that you might leave if you knew you were free from the beginning. I suppose that was foolish to think at the time but well, you’ll be free now,” Eobard explained as easily as if he were talking about the weather.

Cisco felt like he had just been doused in icy water. This new information was sinking in and the anxiety he had felt before gave way to frustration and anger.

“You didn’t want me to leave?” He wrenched himself out of Eobard’s arms, backing up away from him. “I could have been free this whole time but you misled me for your own selfishness? Because you thought I would leave? Where would I go? I had no one and you made me believe that…that being your slave was my _best_ option!”

“Cisco, I never meant to mislead you like that. It was for your own good,” Eobard attempted as he took a step toward Cisco, who laughed bitterly in response.

“For my own good? To keep me dependent on you and afraid for my future, while you let Hartley torment me and did nothing!” Cisco’s blood was roaring in his ears and he felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. Everything that he had believed, everything between them, felt like a lie.

“Please Cisco, if you’ll just look at it from my point of view,” Eobard said as he stepped closer.

But this time Ronnie was there to block his path. “Why don’t you give him some space? This is a lot to take in and Cisco’s had a rough couple of days.”

“No, if he’ll just listen to me,” Eobard tried to push past Ronnie, who’s broad frame didn’t budge.

“Eobard, you have said enough for one day. It’s clear that Cisco doesn’t want to speak further with you. Do not make me ask you to leave my house,” Caitlin spoke up, moving from the doorway to stand at Cisco’s side.

Finally, Eobard seemed to understand and took a step back from Ronnie, nodding in resignation. “You’re right, my lady, of course you’re right. I…forgive me, Cisco.”

Once Eobard was out the door, Cisco turned and quickly fled the room, ending up in Caitlin’s courtyard as he tried to catch his breath. It felt like the ground had been yanked out from under him and he was freefalling through his own life. Eobard had betrayed him in the worst way, and it made Cisco wonder if Eobard had ever felt a true affection for him or if he had always just been something to control.

He felt like a fool and for a brief moment hated himself for falling for Eobard’s charms so easily. But Cisco wasn’t the self-loathing type, so he gave his heart a moment to ache, all alone there in the fading sunlight, to fall apart just a little, before he took a deep breath and raised his head high again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I couldn't resist making Ronnie an engineer for the water system as a call back to season one when Caitlin mentions that he called himself a glorified plumber.   
> Of course Iris is a scribe, the equivalent of a reporter in Middle Earth(at least in my opinion)  
> And yeah, I'll never be over Eddie's death, so he and Joe had to make an appearance.
> 
> Like what I did there? Let's talk about it!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for giving this a try! I'm not sure if anyone will even be interested in a story like this, but if I get a decent response I will continue it. So please, let me know what you think!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr at thegreensorceress


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